


can you carry me?

by myfangirlromance



Category: My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Spring Break, Vampire Gerard Way
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2019-06-01 12:15:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 32,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15142877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myfangirlromance/pseuds/myfangirlromance
Summary: "Frank’s potentially falling for a guy who happens to be a monster by night and could literally suck all five liters of his blood. Fantastic."Ten days in London and Gerard fascinates, and intimidates, Frank beyond rational thinking."Frank made a mental list of bullet points about Gerard. So far, he had Slytherin, comics, dick. Though he should probably reword that last one.'Whatever you were thinking, don’t.''What if I was thinking…. would that be not okay?''No, it wouldn’t. ''Then you quit your thoughts and I’ll quit mine.''Okay then.''Good.''Fine.'But Frank closed the space between them anyway."





	1. Embarkment and Hot Chocolate

**Author's Note:**

> My first writing piece ! I hope to make most chapters this length or longer, and don't worry, after chapter 2 and 3, it picks up really fast so be prepared ;) Please feel free to leave comments !  
> -A
> 
> _________________________________________________________________________

“Yeah, no way.” Frank crossed his arms.  
“Come on, dude, I don’t really have a choice. He can’t stay home alone for ten days by himself.” Mikey threw another stack of clothes in his already overflowing suitcase. How many pairs of ripped jeans does he need, really? Frank would be fine with just a change of underwear and a toothbrush.  
“He is your older brother, right?”  
“Yeah but…”  
“Mikey, you’re telling me that we have to drag your twenty-one-year-old brother to Europe because he can’t stay home alone? You do know he is legally your guardian, right?”  
In a state of serious confusion and more than a bit of frustration, Frank fixed a stacked pile of comics on Mikey’s dresser.  
“It’s not his fault!” Mikey protested. “I’m the one not wanting to leave him alone. He can…he gets himself into trouble more than I can handle and I really don’t want to return from Spring Break to find Gerard in prison or, you know, dead. Not really on my to-do list.”  
As much as he wanted not to, Frank understood. Jersey may be their home but it was dangerous as fuck and Frank knew all too well the shit that goes down after dark. The state kinda reminded him of his ex-girlfriend: nice enough on the outside, but fuck around too long and you piss her off and wind up in a ditch by the side of the road. A charming woman, really.  
It’s not so much Gerard Way tagging along that was annoying Frank, he seemed cool enough from the little he heard about him, it was that this was going to be the time when Frank finally made a move. A move on Mikey, his friend of a decade. The past year, Frank felt something different when he saw Mikey and he didn’t know what it was. He was so very curious. And the best part, if Mikey rejected him, or if Frank realized that wasn’t the feeling settling in the pit of his stomach, they would be over it in minutes and would go right back to friends. Grudges can’t really be held in a friend group of two.  
It was hard enough Ray was joining, and Frank was close to Ray, but Gerard? He would never get Mikey alone. Fan-fucking-tastic.  
“But he’s chill, right? Cool with the shit we get into?”  
Mikey nodded quickly, hoping Frank was warming up to the new twist in their plans.  
“Yes, yeah, totally. Gerard’s the best.”  
Frank shrugged and helped Mikey finish packing.  
“It’s not going to close…”  
“Yes, it will.”  
“…not unless I fucking sit on it.”  
“Then sit on it!”  
“For fuck’s sake…”  
Frank climbed atop Mikey’s suitcase and crossed his legs until Mikey was finally able to get the zipper closed.  
“There.” 

*****

 

The airport wasn’t too crowded, but Mikey was fidgety anyway. He looked over at the sliding glass doors every five seconds, anxiously awaiting Gerard’s arrival, thirty minutes after he said he would be there.  
“He’ll be here.” Mikey murmured, though Frank couldn’t tell if he was trying to convince Frank or himself.  
Sure enough, here came Gerard Way, his black shoulder-length hair kinda greasy and his skin pale like he never left his room, though that would explain why Frank had never met him. The strangest part was his sunken eyes, almost purple eyelids, and pupils the color of dried blood: a mix of maroon and deep brown. But he did look like Mikey’s older brother; they had the same nose, chin, except Gerard’s may have had a bit sharper jaw and fuller cheeks. A backpack slung over one shoulder and Gerard clutched a duffle bag while a passport was slipped between his lips. When he spotted Mikey and me, he took out his earbuds and came over.  
“Cutting it close, big brother.” Mikey sounded irritated, but gave Gerard a half hug anyway. Gerard rolled his eyes.  
“I’m not that late.”  
“Yeah, because I told you to be here an hour before you actually needed to be. I knew you would be late.” He shoved him a bit and turned to Frank. Gerard would be much taller than him if he didn’t slouch so much, but he, just as everyone else, had a good few inches on him. His demeanor took a one eighty and Gerard fiddled with the rubber bracelets on his wrist, cheeks blushing ever so slightly with nervousness. Mikey stepped in.  
“This is Frank…obviously.” Frank grinned lopsided, immediately feeling strange in Gerard’s presence; awkward, like he wasn’t sure what to do with his limbs so he kept changing his standing position.  
“Mikey talks very fondly of you. Pretty sure he’s got a little crush.” It was Mikey’s turn to roll his eyes, which Frank took offense to though he knew he shouldn’t.  
“Right. Can we go now?”  
“Aren’t we waiting for Toro?” Frank asked, motioning back to the front entrance.  
“Nah, he’s flying in tomorrow. Waited till the last minute to buy his plane ticket so todays sold out.” Mikey explained and started for the security line.  
“Gee, you…don’t have any liquids in your carry-on, do you?” Without looking up, Gerard shook his head, still messing with the ties on his jewelry. Mikey didn’t seem convinced but kept moving with the line. When it was Gerard’s turn to hand over his passport, Frank couldn’t help but notice the pages and pages of stamps.  
“Woah, travel much?” Frank said louder than he meant to. Pretty shitty first impression. Gerard shrugged.  
“I like seeing how other countries live. Jersey gets boring as fuck.”  
Frank snorted in agreement. They simultaneously took off their shoes and piled their belongings in plastic bins to be scanned. Mikey and Frank made it to the other side of the metal detector with no issues but Gerard was pulled aside. The security guard furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and focus at the x-ray scan of Gerard’s backpack before withdrawing it and asking him to unload it on a separate table. Mikey strained to look over the crowd and see what was going on.  
Gerard’s shaky hands unzipped the bag and lined the contents: three comics, a thin sketchbook with a pencil stuck in the metal rings that held the pages together, a sealed package of coffee grounds, an empty thermos, a plastic bag of pain killers, an extra set of earbuds, and his phone. Frank couldn’t find an issue with that. Gerard mimicked Mikey’s nervous tapping habit like he was trying to play a tiny set of drums on the table. The security guard checked the thermos for liquid but shrugged.  
“Must have been a glitch. Machine picked up a foreign substance. Sorry for the inconvenience.”  
Mikey released the breath he had been holding beside Frank as Gerard packed up his thinks and scuffed away from the security check. He read Mikey’s mind when he reached them and nodded in reassurance.  
“Nothing.” And he led the way to the flight gate.

*****

“I should have pissed. Damn it.”  
“You’re in the aisle seat, idiot, just go.”  
The seating arrangements went from Gerard at the window seat, Frank in the center seat, to Mikey on the end. It was uncomfortable deciding who would sit where. But in the end, Mikey assigned Frank and Gerard their seat by reasoning that he would use the restroom most, Frank wasn’t able to sleep on planes, and Gerard slept like a baby so climbing over him would be a hassle. Frank didn’t have a problem with the arrangements; he watches a Harry Potter marathon on long plane rides.  
“So, where’s the farthest you’ve traveled?” Frank asked Gerard. He thought about it.  
“Japan, probably. But Barcelona was my favorite trip.”  
They sat in silence a moment.  
“You?”  
“Me what?”  
“Where’ve you been?”  
“Oh.” Frank flushed a bit. “Oh. Um…just my grandma’s in the city, really. Drove through Atlanta once when we were on our way to Disney World. Goofy’s really fucking creepy in real life by the way.” Gerard threw his head back and cackled lightly.  
“I bet.”  
Mikey reappeared from the bathroom and slammed his hands on his armrest.  
“They’re serving hot chocolate.”  
Gerard nodded courteously and started reading a comic from his bag, not paying attention.  
“Yeah…?” Frank raised his eyebrows at Mikey’s sudden fascination with melted chocolate in a plastic cup.  
“I love hot chocolate.” Arms and eyes wide to show just how important hot chocolate was, Mikey took a seat, smiling. Smirking, Frank found the whole conversation quite adorable; the fact that Mikey could be so passionate about a hot, sugary drink. Only a few minutes later, a flight attendant rolled by with a cart of beverages.  
“Coffee, hot chocolate, or tea?” She asked. Before she could finish getting the words out, Mikey jumped in.  
“Hot chocolate. Or two. You want one, Frank?”  
“I’ll stick with coffee.”  
Mikey shrugged. “Two for me then and another coffee for the anti-social hermit.”  
Gerard reached over me to pitch Mikey’s forearm and Mikey pinched him back, like a couple of five-year-olds. The flight attendant went from cheery to exasperated. They got their drinks and she moved on quickly to get away from the grown-up toddlers.  
“If you two are going to keep reaching over me to hit each other, then Gerard and I are switching seats.” Mikey huffed and slouched in his seat, taking turns sipping from each cup of hot chocolate. The coffee in Gerard’s hands, however, was treated gingerly as he hugged it close to him like it had the capability to warm his whole body through his palms. A bump of turbulence sloshed coffee over the rim of his plastic cup, stinging Frank’s skin when it singed through his jeans.  
“Shit!” Frank jumped in his seat.  
“Oh fuck, sorry man.” Gerard pressed his napkin to Frank’s thigh with frantic fingers. Meeting his eyes, Frank shrugged, his own fingertips lingering above Gerard’s as he took his place holding the napkin.  
“S’fine.” He mumbled.  
Though his expression implied he had more to say, Gerard shook off the comment in his throat and turned back to his comic and Frank to the movie screen in front of him, but neither could find the means to focus. Not much longer, Mikey passed out, two empty cups on his tray table. The lights flickered off in the cabin, quiet settling in once most passengers fell asleep. Blurry thoughts filled Frank’s head as he drifted between the lines of consciousness. Eventually, he gave up and played Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban on his laptop. Gerard fluttered awake beside him, whom Frank couldn’t even tell was asleep in the first place, as Gerard had just been leaning back stiffly, and Frank dimmed the glow on his screen, thinking the light woke Gerard from whatever kind of sleep he was in.  
“What house are you in?” Gerard asked, rubbing his eyes. Frank took out one of his earbuds.  
“Huh?” He pressed the space bar, pausing on the opening Warner Brother’s logo.  
“Your Hogwarts house.”  
“Oh, uh, I don’t know. I’ve never been sorted.” Not a foot from Frank’s face, shadows crept from the creases of Gerard’s eyes, the effect of the limited light on the plane. His hair was swept to one side, out of his face, but a single strand stubbornly centered itself on his forehead. For the first time, Frank noticed just how pale Gerard was, with translucent skin that showed off the blue veins underneath, running down his neck like vines of a tree. But Frank could hardly consider it an ugly look. It suited him. He tried to picture Gerard lying on a beach, a tan covering the details of his face, shadows no longer visible, and Frank couldn’t see it. Gerard chuckled, voice thick like anyone’s was first thing in the morning, drawing Frank back from the beach to the plane seat.  
“Hufflepuff.” He stated certainly. Frank wrinkled his nose.  
“How do you know?”  
Gerard shrugged.  
“It’s a gift.”  
After Frank slumped in his seat, disappointed, Gerard spoke again.  
“Punk. You seem like a punk that’s a Hufflepuff. Hufflepuff punk. Hufflepunk.”  
Frank thought it over.  
“I can fuck with that.” Hufflepunk. Sounded much better than Hufflepuff, that sounded like a drug lab. He didn’t consider himself punk or anything like that; he definitely dressed “edgy” or whatever, and yeah, he played guitar like a badass, but he didn’t label himself as punk or anything else, really.  
“What about you?” Though Frank could already guess.  
“Slytherin.” Gerard answered confidently.  
“Of course.” Mumbled Frank, rolling his eyes.  
“Hey, I’m proud to be a dick. Not that all of us are; I just happen to fit the stereotype. At least I’m not a cocky Gryffindor like Mikey. Obnoxious as hell.”  
That was the first bit of personality Frank had gotten from Gerard. All previous conversation had been merely friendly and courteous. There was another layer to him Frank had gotten a glimpse of but still remained to be uncovered.  
“You don’t seem like a dick.” He thought aloud.  
“Well, you know nothing about me yet.”  
It wasn’t a threat, but the tone he said it in sent goosebumps down Frank’s arms.  
“Then tell me something. We’re going to be rooming for the next week so might as well get familiar.” He regretted the phrasing of his words momentarily, but Gerard didn’t seem to think anything of it.  
“What do you want to know?”  
Frank sighed.  
“I don’t know, um….what are your hobbies?”  
Gerard raised an eyebrow.  
“My hobbies. Not very interesting question.”  
“Fine, what is your perception of death and the meaning of humans on this earth? Interesting enough?”  
Gerard laughed.  
“Much better. If you must know, I believe that there is no other point of being placed on this earth besides to make the quality of life better for the people around you. If we gotta be here, might as well make the most of it.”  
Frank didn’t expect that. He made a mental list of bullet points about Gerard. So far, he had 'Slytherin, comics, dick.' Though he should probably reword that last one.  
“So, you’re one of those ‘you only live once’ guys.” Assumed Frank and Gerard smirked.  
“Yeah, guess so.” He swept another piece of hair away from his face, swirled his cold coffee, tried to take a sip, made a face, and put it back down again.  
“Hey, can I get two cups of coffee?” Frank leaned over Mikey carefully, avoiding waking him, and asked the passing flight attendant.  
“You three with the caffeine. How do you sleep?” She winked.  
“Thanks.” Gerard said to Frank. “She’s right though. Mikey’s had two hot chocolates and he’s out like a light.”  
How Mikey could sleep on planes at all was beyond Frank. There was always noise somewhere, or turbulence, or a child kicking the back of the seat.  
“He can sleep anywhere. Once he decided to take a nap on the bathroom floor at a party. But that might have been cause of the half-a-dozen screwdrivers.”  
“I remember one time when we were like thirteen we got some strong shit from a friend, I couldn’t tell you what it was, but I couldn’t sleep all night. My mind was buzzing and Mikey just slept. Either he’s got a really high tolerance or he’s got the gift of slumber.”  
A chuckled escaped the both of them. After the flight attendant returned with the coffees, Frank added,  
“Did he tell you about that time he had a date with some chick and fell asleep in his car waiting for her? I mean, she eventually found him and they fucked in the back seat, but….”  
Mid-sip, Gerard snorted in his coffee, accomplishing an accidental spit-take, sending Frank into a fit of laughter he couldn’t muffle. Next to him, Mikey jerked awake and the old lady across the aisle shot the three of them a look.  
“Whuh the fugh…” Mikey slurred.  
“Shh, go back to sleep.” Frank told him quietly, still chuckling to himself, and Mikey complied.  
“No, I definitely haven’t heard about that.” Gerard smiled and shook his head as he wiped the drops from the back of the seat in front of him.  
The hush of the cabin lifted, people, stirring in their seat, slowly coming too. Children somewhere behind the three nagged their parents for breakfast, though it couldn’t be passed four in the morning. Lucky for them, and for Mikey who awoke again but this time desperate for a snack, flight attendants started pushing carts down the aisle handing out mini bagels in clear plastic packaging. Noticing Mikey eyeing his bagels, Gerard handed them over to his brother, rolling his eyes. Mikey nodded in thanks, mentally remembered something, and pointed to Gerard’s backpack on the floor. Gerard sighed, took out the bag of pills, and popped two in his mouth, swishing them down with caffeine.  
“I can remember them on my own, you know.” But Mikey wasn’t listening. Curious, but not curious enough, so Frank didn’t ask, because to be quite honest, Gerard intimidated the fuck out of him. Intrigued him, yes, but intimidated him.  
He wasn’t like anyone Frank had ever met. Dark, funny, a bit darker, and hyper-focused were just a few of his layers. But there were so many more Frank wasn’t seeing. He could feel them, though, Gerard gave off a …aura of sorts; a vibe of individuality. Frank added another bullet point to his mental list: enigmatic.


	2. Spagetti'Os and Shakespeare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to start recommending a song to listen to with every chapter so for this one I think 'Window Seat' by Thomston fits pretty well
> 
> Enjoy !  
> -A
> 
> __________________________________________

“Not too bad…’s pretty nice.” Mikey huffed, sitting atop his suitcase in the hallway of the apartment.  
They were all exhausted, arriving in Wellington around six in the afternoon, and Gerard told them they had to stay awake until after dinner or else they’d completely fuck up their sleep schedule. “Nice? This place is a fucking castle.” Frank awed at the spacious floor plan they had to themselves for the next ten days, complete with a kitchen, two bedrooms, and a tiny sitting room overlooking a busy street full of tourists and locals.  
“Mikey and I’ll take the first room. Frank, you good with sharing with Ray?” Gerard was already putting on a pot of coffee.  
“Yeah, whatever’s fine.” Though Frank would much rather be rooming with Mikey.  
“Don’t fall asleep Mikey!” Gerard called from the kitchen.  
“Mhm, kay.” Mikey responded, lying face down on the sofa.  
Frank stashed his suitcase and carry-on in the left half of his room’s closet. He was glad that he would have a room to himself for the night, now that he thought about it. The room he would be sharing with Ray tomorrow contained two twin beds, a side table between them, and a dresser.  
He took his shoes off and flopped on the far bed, stared at the ceiling, rubbed his face with his hands, and stared a bit more until he heard a knock on the door.  
“Yeah?”  
Gerard cracked the door and poked his head in.  
“So, Mikey’s passed out and we’re gonna need groceries, do you wanna walk down to that general store we passed?”  
Running his fingers though his hair, Frank sat up with a groan and followed Gerard outside, where the sun hid behind layers of clouds, the streets were damp from rain, and only a few stray residents were left walking about. Frank had to speed walk to keep up Gerard, until eventually he noticed and slowed his pace.  
“What do we need?” An out-of-breath Frank asked.  
“A few gallons of water- the tap tastes like lead sometimes- coffee, stuff for sandwiches cause eating out every meal can get expensive, cigarettes- I’ll have to buy those- and whatever else.” The two rounded a corner, just passed a tube station, and were met by a narrow row of convenience stores, some with fruit stands outside. The first didn’t sell tobacco, so they agreed to shop in the second.  
They split up inside, though the place was so small they were hardly separating, and each picked up what they agreed on and what they saw for themselves, meeting at the register after. Frank gathered the bread and ham for sandwiches, bags of crisps, three apples, dishwasher liquid and toilet paper, plus some other miscellaneous snacks. While Gerard picked out the coffee, cigarettes and a lighter, water, four cans of spaghetti-o’s, toothpaste, peanut butter, and a small box of condoms, which Frank had to try very hard not to ask about, so instead, he commented, “Spaghetti’Os? I haven’t had those in like ten years.”  
Gerard shrugged and smirked.  
“Easy and cheap five-star dinner.” He handed over a twenty-pound note to the cashier, lowering his voice.  
“And the condoms are communal, gotta have a bit of fun over here, right? I mean, Brits are hot as fuck.” He added non-chalantly. Frank, on the other hand, went red as the apples he loaded into a plastic bag.  
“Ha.” He stuttered, not being able to push aside the fact that Gerard hadn’t specified what gender of “Brit” he was talking about. Huh.  
“I don’t really think I’ll be needed one, though.” Why he wanted to seem like a nun in front of Gerard, Frank will never know. Maybe not a nun, but he definitely didn’t want to seem like a slut, which happened to be exactly what Frank was reading off Gerard. But Frank didn’t mind. Strange. “Got a girlfriend or something?” Gerard interrogated, not meeting his eyes.  
“N-no. I don’t.” Frank stuttered.  
“Oh, so you’re just a prude.” Gerard shoved Frank with his shoulder lightly.  
“Yeah, maybe.” Though that wasn’t completely true.  
A few years ago, at one of Ray’s house parties, Mikey and Frank, along with some other strangers, decided to play a drunk game of Spin the Bottle. Frank didn’t remember much, but what he could recall was Frank’s turn landing on Mikey across the circle. The room cackled and the drunk Mikey smirked devilishly before putting on a show. He crawled over to Frank, who, unlike Mikey, became sheepish when seriously hammered, grabbed Frank by the collar, and proceeded to suck faces with him for a solid thirty seconds while the smoke-filled party goers cheered and whistled. Frank ended up on his back with Mikey on top of him, almost grinding against him, until Mikey sat up, wiped his mouth, and fell back to his spot in the game circle. Frank knew it was just a stupid game, that Mikey wanted to show off a bit and make everyone laugh like he always did, but the next morning when Frank remembered what had happened, he couldn’t stop thinking about it.  
Eventually, Frank had a thing for Mikey, from a fucking make out session surrounded by twenty intoxicated teenagers who probably still to this day couldn’t remember what happened that night. But besides that, yeah, Frank was a prude. But he didn’t plan to be for long.  
With the sun setting behind them, the plastic bags clutched in their hands, and a cigarette already between their teeth, Frank schemed how he was finally going to grow a pair and get to Mikey.

*****

Day 1

 

The next morning, sandwiches were constructed with the scarce groceries items, some creations being stranger than others.  
“Don’t you dare dip your peanut butter bread in my coffee.” Frank reached across the table to swipe his cup before Mikey could douse his toast in it.  
“I was improving it!”  
“I’m allergic to peanuts!”  
Gerard sat quietly between them, flipping through a travel magazine and monotonously stirring the contents of his mug.  
“We should tour Shakespeare’s Globe.” He said, not looking up from his magazine while pushing Mikey back down in his seat as he tried to take Frank’s coffee again. Mikey had engulfed three cups before nine am so Gerard put a limit on him.  
“I’m down. I didn’t take you for an English nerd.” Frank commented, cleaning up his ham and crisps sandwich, yes, the crisps were in between the bread.  
“He’s not.” Mikey answered, once again attempting to steal Frank’s coffee while his back was turned. Gerard slapped his hand away.  
“If I want another cup of coffee, I’m going to have another cup of coffee!”  
One look from his brother and Mikey slumped away into his room to get dressed.  
“I’m not.” Gerard said, helping Frank wash the rest of the breakfast dishes.  
“Not what?”  
“An English nerd.”  
“Oh. Okay. I wasn’t judging or anything.”  
Gerard snorted.  
“You would if…” He shook his head and left his sentence incomplete.  
“If what?” Frank set down the dish he was washing and turned around, leaning on the sink; Gerard was close behind him so now he was quite close in front of him, their noses only inches apart.  
“Nothing.” Gerard murmured, his eyes unable to settle, drifting up and down Frank.  
They stood quiet a moment, then Gerard reached over Frank’s shoulder to get a clean glass from the cabinet above the sink. Frank leaned away, his back draping the rim of basin. But he changed his mind in an instant and started tilting toward Gerard. Gerard allowed him a few more inches, the peach fuzz of their nose and foreheads buzzing with the tiniest bit of contact, before Gerard backed up, changing his entire expression in a millisecond. He went from intrigued, fascinated, like he had never been so close to someone before, to putting back on his mask of dissatisfaction and disinterest, the left corner of his lip turning down.  
“I wouldn’t.” He warned softly.  
Frank shook out of his daze, mentally face palming at his assumption Gerard was trying something.  
“Would-wouldn’t what?”  
Gerard tapped the sides of his glass.  
“Whatever you were thinking, don’t.”  
Frank took a bold step toward him, not too close.  
“What if I was thinking…. would that be not okay?”  
“No, it wouldn’t. Because that would mean we were thinking the same thing and nothing good can come from that.”  
Another step forward.  
“Why can’t we just think to ourselves?”  
For the first time, Gerard radiated nervousness, biting his bottom lip and fidgeting with his bracelet.  
“B-because… because I’m not good at keeping myself from acting on my thoughts.”  
An overwhelming level of adrenaline filled Frank from the tips of his fingers, spreading inward to the very strings of breath leaving his lungs, and swirled in spiral shapes around his thoughts, making them incomprehensible. God damn, A thought broke through the spirals.  
Maybe Frank was too quick to develop crushes, and it was something he needed to work on, because he wanted nothing more than to intensely kiss Gerard on his pale skin, but he equally wanted to force the thoughts out the door permanently. Mikey’s brother, really? The brother of the guy he’d had a thing for over the past some years? No. He still felt the same about Mikey. And he felt nothing for Gerard. He barely knew him. He liked Mikey.  
“Then you quit your thoughts and I’ll quit mine.” Frank concluded finally.  
“Okay then.”  
“Good.”  
“Fine.”  
But Frank closed the space between them anyway. Before he could do what he wanted, which he himself didn’t know what exactly that included, Gerard firmly placed his palms on Frank’s chest in protest.  
“Don’t.” His eyes loomed darkly above Frank’s face; intense and honestly horrifying. For the first, but hardly the last, time, Frank was terrified by Gerard and his inhuman features.  
And they both left their thoughts to rot in the kitchen.

*****

It was March in London, and it was fucking freezing. The Shakespeare Globe sat on the edge of the River Thames in the London Borough, surrounded by narrow street alleys and suspicious restaurants. On the way there, Mikey got distracted by a tall wall of old bricks that dripped with age, and at the top was what looked like an old circular stain glass window, minus the glass. Only the wood panels were left. Then, Frank got distracted by the Nandos right around the corner. But, after getting lost no less than three times because of the many tight twists and turns, they made it to the historic white and black round.  
“We have a self-guided tour, so we can just walk around.”  
The three decided to split up, each viewing the parts they were most interested in throughout the museum. Frank went to a costume display, Mikey a mini-version of the original Globe, and Gerard, the wall of Shakespeare’s life story. Of course. Frank thought when he glanced at Gerard from across the gallery. He’s totally an English nerd. The costumes Frank observed were more intricate than he thought, getting a closer look. Dresses of pale pink, thread bearing, with gold pleated collars. Eccentric hats and head pieces stood upright in glass cases, their fabrics varying in texture and pattern. Robes swayed on racks, replicas of true fashion pieces of the time. Frank reached out and felt the sleeve of one in bright yellow between his index finger and thumb. Above the rack were paintings of costumes and the people in them enjoying a party of sorts. Other pictures were of real people putting on shows at the globe in almost identical outfits. All Frank could note was how heavy they must be to wear, with so many layers. Minutes ticked by against Frank’s permission; he really did enjoy reading how these costumes were made, what they were made of, what shows they belonged to.  
“Frank, come on.” Mikey called, holding open the door, letting in all the cold air. Across a courtyard stood the grand entrance to the real Globe, with towering wood architecture and different heights of balconies. Paintings of different time periods took the cement walls, covered in fading colors of dancing men and woman in castles and specific scenes from certain Shakespeare’s plays.  
But the most magnificent and lavish part of the open-ceiling building was the stage. Two marble columns held up an ambitious cover for the actors’ platform, the roof of it carved with complex shapes, every single one unique.  
“Damn.” Mikey commented, while Frank whistled and Gerard just spun around in awe, taking in the scene. It truly was incredible.  
Groups of school children piled in rows around the theatre, receiving a narrated tour.  
“They must be here for the show later today.” Said Mikey, pointing to his pamphlet.  
“Did you know the original burned down in 1613? They rebuilt it but it’s still only an estimate of what the first looked like.” Gerard blurted.  
“Huh.” Mikey supplied, uninterested, but Gerard continued.  
“It caught fire when a cannon was launched as a prop during a show and landed on the roof.”  
Frank snorted.  
“If you have to go, that’s the way to do it.” He remarked.  
Gerard wanted to sit and observe a while longer, which they did, but eventually Mikey got bored and started for the small entrance.  
“I’ll meet you inside. I want to look at the costumes.”  
Frank stayed on the wooden bench he shared with Gerard, who was preoccupied by the carvings on the walls, but Frank kept to one side, not wanting to get too close. He still shivered at remembering the look Gerard gave him that morning, and cringed at his previous rejection. As if anything good could come from making a move on someone he’d just met. Frank didn’t even know what his intentions were when he moved on Gerard. What did he expect to happen? Nothing. Nothing; Gerard simply had a way of charming people into doing the irrational. Nothing more to it. He decided to pretend the whole predicament didn’t occur.  
“Pretty sure Mikey’s planning on meeting Ray at the Nando’s around the corner.”  
Gerard withdrew himself from his immersion.  
“Okay.” Awkward. “We should probably get going then.”  
Frank nodded in agreement as Gerard lifted his phone to take a picture of the stage.  
“Yeah, you’re totally an English nerd.” Frank whispered near his ear and darted for the exit.  
“Am not!”

*****  
Inside the wooden-based restaurant, under a glowing red Nandos sign, Ray sat in a yellow chair with his head resting on his folded arms, asleep on the table, his hair as wild as ever.  
“Toro!” The three chanted when they spotted his mane of curls. Ray woke abruptly and looked around dazed.  
“Wassup!” He croaked.  
“Long flight?” Mikey teased. Ray nodded.  
They each pulled up a chair around him, Mikey withdrawing a piece of curly hair stuck in Ray’s mouth.  
“You all just came from the Globe, yeah?”  
“You missed out; it was really cool.” Said Gerard.  
Ray shrugged, flipping through a plastic-covered menu.  
“I’ll leave it to the English nerds.”  
Gerard nearly choked on his coffee, exchanging a look with Frank who was shaking his head and laughing to himself.  
“Seen the apartment yet?” Mikey diverted.  
Ray kicked a suitcase beneath the table.  
“Headed there next.”  
“It’s bigger than my house.”  
“That’s not saying much, Frank, your house is fucking tiny.” Ray said.  
“Hey, my house has charm. More charming than you three assholes.” Frank defended, getting a laugh from the group.  
“As much as I love discussing floor planes, I’m starving so…”  
Getting up from the table, Mikey ordered a large platter of chips, which he previously called fries, and got a look of exasperation from the cashier. When he came back with the plate, he hardly sat it on the table before they were devoured by the four boys  
“Where to?” Frank asked, finishing the last handful of potatoes.  
“Apartment, then what about that big park around Buckingham Palace?”  
“I haven’t been there in a while.” Gerard thought aloud.  
“Fine by me. Mikey’s never seen a garden, so it’ll be a new experience for him.”  
Mikey smacked Ray on his arm.  
“I’ll have you know I grew tomatoes when I was younger.”  
“You also watered them with fruit punch and they died.”  
Mikey scowled at the other three laughing.  
“Sorry. Just stay away from any flowers.”


	3. Flavored Lube and Guy-Liner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one gets a tiny bit steamy, so be prepared !
> 
> Song recommendations:  
> "Sweater Weather" by The Neighbourhood  
> then,  
> "Lets Kill Tonight" by Panic! At The Disco
> 
> -A
> 
> ________________________________________

Day 2

“Alright, listen up ladies…”  
Mikey started as the four sat down for dinner at a pub around the corner from the apartment.  
“I don’t gender identify.” Ray interrupted sarcastically.  
“Listen up ladies, gentlemen, porcupines, and Ray. You all are about to be kissing my feet because, as I am the coolest badass-est friend and brother ever, I managed to get…drum roll…” When no one complied, Mikey drum rolled himself.  
“I got us… tickets to… Panic! at the -fucking- Disco.”  
“WHAT!”  
“Are you fucking serious?”  
“YOU WHAT?!” Frank, Gerard, and Ray burst out simultaneously, the rest of the pub staring. Mikey sat back in his chair, arms crossed, quite pleased with himself.  
“Hell yeah, bitches.”  
“Well, what are we still doing here, we’re going to a Panic! concert, we gotta gay ourselves up.” Joked Ray, but Frank undoubtedly saw Gerard glance at him. He didn’t give him a look back. “Right. I’ll get the guy-liner, you get the hair straightener.” Mikey played along.  
“But really, we should get going; it starts at eight.” Gerard nodded in agreement and waved down a waitress.  
“Fine, but I’m not going to any concert without getting at least a little tipsy.” Frank stayed quiet and puffed his cigarette smoke. They split the check for the four pints and walked back out into the cold.  
“We have time to stop and pick up some shit to wear, right? Cause the gayest thing I brought was a turtle neck and that’s not exactly concert attire.” Ray asked the group. Frank was thoroughly confused by what he was hearing about the vibe of the concert. Sure, he hadn’t seen Panic! live, but was all this really necessary? Buying a whole wardrobe? And if it was, the look certainly wasn’t Frank’s thing: guy-liner and hair straitening and glitter. Ugh, glitter. But he didn’t argue and went along with what Mikey wanted, as he was the one who bought the tickets. However, if they were the only ones dressed so ridiculously, Frank swore to god he would jump off the Tower of London.  
“We should, yeah. I think there’s a place in Piccadilly.” Mikey responded.  
Gerard snorted, walking and scrolling through his phone, leading the group into the Underground. The temperature dropped, sending a shiver down Frank’s back. Blindly they followed Gerard through the white tile hallways to the Northbound line, assuming Gerard knew where he was going. Ray and Mikey walked side-by-side, talking softly under the loud hum of machines coming and going.  
When the red-bodied train screeched to a stop in front of the crowd, Gerard waiting dangerously close to the yellow line at the edge of the platform, the people surged forward to get a seat. Being the first ones on, Gerard and Frank sat at the back of the first car while Mikey and Ray lingered by the double doors, holding onto the ceiling handlebars. Most of the sound absorbed into the windows but in order to hear the person next to him, Gerard raised his voice a bit. “You’re best buddies with my brother, yeah?” He murmured to Frank, shoulders and arms against each other in the tight quarters.  
“I’d hope so as he practically lives at my house.” Frank replied.  
“Has he told you anything, you know, personal?” Frank remembered Mikey vaguely saying that he and Gerard were close, but didn’t really tell each other much. But Mikey also didn’t really tell Frank anything either. Mikey was quite the keep-to-himself guy, though he could be outgoing when he wanted.  
“I mean, he hasn’t told me if he has herpes or something, if that’s what you’re wondering.” Gerard rolled his eyes.  
“No, like if he’s seeing someone, dumbass.”  
Thinking back, Frank couldn’t recall Mikey mentioning a girlfriend. Even sorting through the memories of Mikey being drunk and spilling his guts once in a blue moon Frank remembered nothing about Mikey seeing anyone, besides that time he fell asleep on a date. And when Mikey made out with him at the party? Yeah, that doesn’t count either. Frank guessed Mikey liked action over commitment, which made him uneasy.  
“He never said, no.”  
They looked over at Mikey, squished between a man in a top hat and Ray, but despite grinned from ear to ear.  
“…he looks cozy.” Gerard muttered under his breath, but Frank heard him, whether he was supposed to or not.  
“What’d you mean?” Debating if he should elaborate, Gerard sighed.  
“They just seem… I don’t know, the two of them are acting weird. As in I’m unable to count on one hand the amount of gay jokes they’ve made today.”  
Oh. Oh… A knot tied itself in the pit of Frank’s stomach. Gerard wasn’t wrong, now that he was paying attention, the two did seem strange.  
“N-nah, I think they’re just getting in the Panic! mood.” Frank kept his composure but inside he shriveled like a beaten puppy. Was he really so blind? The whole trip so far Ray and Mikey clung to each other and if Frank was being honest, his whole plan seemed ridiculously childish all of the sudden; trying to make a sly move on his best friend, what was this, middle school? Idiot. “Whatever. I’m just saying, I know my brother and he’s being weird.”  
“And I know my best friend and he’s not.” Frank retorted.  
He might be convinced of Gerard’s theory but he would never let him know that. Maybe if he didn’t admit to it out loud, it’s just that: a theory. But that stupid theory hurt like hell; Frank was mad at three things: Gerard, for placing the idea in his head, Mikey, for living up to the accusations by being all ‘cozy’ across the train car, and himself, for being so fucking blind. Really, all he wanted was to go back to the apartment, leave Ray alone in their shared room, and cry in the shower: the manliest sort of cry. Kind of. Whatever.  
He’d be damned if he let them ruin tonight because Frank planned on dancing his ass off, screaming his lungs out, and fully taking in the view of Brendon Urie up close. Fuck yeah. Fuck Mikey. Swallowing down his fuming words, Frank contemplated which color body glitter he would buy.

*****

Despite the off-tourist season, the Piccadilly area packed up and down streets, flooding department stores and restaurants. The big ass MnM store called Frank’s name, echoed by a thrift comic book store, but he kept walking. Street vendors handed out flyers and silver painted actors and actresses posed for pictures, reminding Frank of the few times he visited New York City.  
A young man playing guitar with a case full of coins and notes caught his attention, and not just for his talented guitar skills.  
“Watch out.” Gerard mumbled, voice on the verge of frantic, tearing Frank’s eyes away from the handsome musician. Firm fingers yanked Frank backward in time for a series of bicyclists to zoom by where he had been standing a millisecond before.  
He caught his balance, taken aback, and found his composure, noticing Gerard’s hand still clasped around his wrist. Frank fought the hold, maybe a bit harsher than necessary. He meant to thank Gerard, however reluctantly, but he already continued down the pavement after his brother. Lots of thought bubbles popped in Frank’s mind as he caught up with the group. He chose to ignore all of them. And just in time.  
A small shop crammed between two pubs loomed before him, with tinted glass doors and display windows advertising costumes, pool floats in the shape of watermelons, and a table stacked with props that Frank also made the smart decision to ignore. But he couldn’t help noting the rainbow flag draped over the door frame. Inside had the same vibe: random shit thrown on shelves; a section for costumes and makeup, for t shirts and clothing with obscure logos, for the mysterious objects demonstrated outside, and for other miscellaneous items like books, room décor that only eccentric humans would consider displayable, and some vinyl racks. Basically, a mix of Urban Outfitters and Spencer’s.  
While Frank pretended to be interested in a line of band tees, he observed the brothers debating over something, then Gerard delivering a joke that got a cackle from Mikey. More entertaining seemed to be Ray’s attempt at flipping through a book but keeping his eyes questioning the mystery objects. Frank couldn’t tell if Ray was scared, fascinated, or plane weirded out by whatever was on the wall.  
Upon closer inspection, after Ray moved on from staring at it like it was an animal with two heads, Frank wasn’t disappointed with what he saw: packages of strange-flavored lube, condoms with a weed leaf on them, what Frank assumed were toys, though some looked more painful than pleasurable, and, most surprising of all, bondage kits. Kinky. He thought. Not his kind of kinky, but…kinky all the same. Lube labeled with a vodka bottle did intrigue him, however.  
Unlucky for Frank, he apparently forgot to turn the page of the book he was holding as a cover-up, and had his mouth slacked open in shock, so Gerard picked up on his façade. He slipped next to Frank without his knowledge and made him jump out of his skin like a teenager caught masturbating.  
“Mind if I read next?” He mused.  
After his heart started beating again, Frank viewed the cover of what he was holding. ‘Keep the Romance Going; A Different Sex Position for Every Day of the Year.’ He flushed red across his nose and neck, quickly putting down the book. Gerard glanced at his blushing cheeks and smirked with satisfaction.  
“If you’re in need of creative assistance, you could have asked.” Shaking his head vigorously, Frank started denying.  
“I- I wasn’t actually reading it…”  
Gerard nudged his shoulder.  
“I know that; I’m just fucking with you.”  
Frank silently released a lung full of anxiety.  
“I’m surprised you attempted the same trick Ray did, especially after he failed miserably at making it look like he wasn’t staring at the anal beads.”  
The blush was back.  
“Personally, I prefer the old-fashion stimulation.”  
Frank choked on air.  
“I really didn’t need to know that, dude.”  
Gerard shrugged.  
“Whatever. But like every Phys Ed teacher says, if you can’t talk about sex, you shouldn’t be having it.”  
Observing Gerard’s stance, his glossy eyes, fiddling with his bracelets, Frank came to a conclusion. “Are you high?” He asked, only to get a snort back.  
“Please. You don’t want to see me high.” Damn.  
“Well, now I want to even more.” Frank tried, gaining a smidge of confidence back.  
“We’ll have a smoke before the trip’s over.” Promised Gerard. Frank couldn’t wait.

*****  
“What the hell are you doing?” Gerard asked, caught between serious confusion and amusement.  
Frank glared at him through the mirror’s reflection, black running down his cheeks. Earlier, when Mikey offered to help Frank with the eyeliner, he denied and said he could do it himself. How hard could it be? Now he wished he’d taken Mikey up on his offer as he was attempting to scrub the dark stains off his eyelids.  
“Don’t press down so hard.” Gerard advised, reaching for a box of makeup wipes and handing one over. It worked much better than water and Frank felt embarrassed he hadn’t thought to try that. After his face was clean, Frank tried again, this time following Gerard’s instructions, using a looser grip on the pencil.  
“Get as close to your lashes as you can without poking your eye out. Take your time”  
Frank stabbed his eye a few times anyway, not fully grasping the concept of ‘taking his time’ and rushed more than he should.  
“Better. Now use your finger to smudge it just a little.”  
The last step was the easiest, as the textured line of charcoal smeared seamlessly. Frank looked himself over in the mirror, not too disappointed with his work. It looked…good.  
“Not bad.” Complimented Gerard, using the extra sink space to start his makeup. He opened a pallet of brightly colored powders. Eyeshadow, Frank guessed, and watched as Gerard spread a blood-red shade across the lids of his eye, then lightly dabbed remnants of color under his bottom lashes, giving the illusion he’d cried tears of crimson.  
“Woah.” Frank sighed before he could stop himself.  
Gerard smirked at his astonishment.  
“Sick, right?”  
Left on the counter was, last but not least, the can of body glitter, already half empty from Mikey spraying it literally everywhere. Frank hadn’t the slightest idea where, or even if, he should use it. But Gerard seemed confident as he spritzed a rush of shimmering paint directly on one side, like a unicorn sneezed over the left part of his face. It wasn’t too much, just a subtle glimmer that would look amazing under concert lights.  
Gerard noticed Frank observing his actions.  
“Want some?”  
Fuck it, he might as well.  
Placing his palm over Frank’s eyes as to not spray them, Gerard shook the can and pressed down on the lip. Frank flinched at the gust of cold.  
“Stop moving.”  
Gerard looked him over and decided to give Frank one more mist on the side of his neck. In the mirror, Frank hardly recognized himself. The whole side of him from the shoulders up was doused in sparkles and he liked it. Like, really liked it. He thought he looked fucking awesome.  
Clapping his shimmering hands together in a ‘my-work-here-is-done’ sort of way, Gerard left Frank staring at his reflection.

*****  
The venue, though hardly small, over flowed with concert-goers, lines wrapping around the block and the building. Attire ranged from DIY Metallica t-shirts to flower crowns and flowy dresses. Just about every style on the planet could be found in the crowd so Frank was confident in their outfit selection.  
The boys took a taxi to the main entrance, passing the Box Office line, tickets in hand, and made their way around the mobs inside. Though there were seats to separate different sections, it was a disorganized mess, no barrier stopping them from elbowing their way to the front instead of going to the back as written on their tickets.  
Compared to the outside, the roof of the venue was lower than it looked and the floor hardly seemed to be able to fit the five-thousand it advertised. At least six-thousand came to see Panic! At the Disco, and the overabundance created the hectic but electric atmosphere. Frank felt bad for taking up space in the front row mosh pit, but the guilt faded the moment the lights flickered out.  
The curtain of the stage rose, revealing a platform of instruments, including three mic stands wrapped in vines and flowers, and a drum set with more of the bright garden designs painted on the front. Behind the set hung a tapestry of the band’s logo, flowing down from the bar of ceiling stage lights. An array of yellow and pink shined down on the best-dressed men that picked up the guitars and sat behind the drums and the audience roared with the first chord of the first song.  
Frank was pretty familiar with Panic!’s music and jumped and surged with the surrounding teenagers. Everyone clumped together extremely close, Mikey on Frank’s left, screaming every word. When Ryan Ross made eye contact with him and winked, Mikey nearly passed out, turning to Ray and yelling even more. To Frank’s right, Gerard rocked out just as much as Mikey, his hair wild and greasy and glittery.  
The group of four decided on button up tops and black ripped jeans, a common theme running with the other guys at the concert. Gerard, however, took the look one step further and unbuttoned the first three clasps on his white and grey plaid shirt.  
Frank glanced at the older boy next to him, noticing the sharpness of his jaw from the side view, shining with the shimmer spray. The part of his chest exposed was just as pale at the rest of him, an unusual but not unattractive ghostly shade. How strange, thought Frank, distracted from the musicians performing with energy not five feet in front of him.  
“You’re staring.” Gerard called, leaning closer to Frank, not taking his eyes off Brendon jumping around on stage.  
No one could tell, but Frank’s cheeks were hot under his makeup.  
“I’m just trying to get a better view of Spencer.” He defended.  
“Whatever.”  
The concert continued another hour, playing brilliant song after brilliant song and Frank never felt more alive. His bladder, however, wasn’t having the same amount of fun and Frank debated whether it was worth fighting his way to the bathroom and back. He decided to take his chances and weaved between seats, almost falling over at least a dozen times from being pushed out of the way.  
The heavy door blocked a good amount of sound, surprisingly, so Frank managed to catch his breath in quiet. He rested his hands on either side of a sink, observing his reflection in the dirty mirror. The black around his eyes smeared more against his knowledge but he didn’t care too much. Sighing deeply, he did what he came to do.  
“Having fun?”  
Frank fixed his pant zipper and turned around, hearing a gap of sound leak into the bathroom as someone else entered.  
“The concert or taking a piss?” Frank asked Gerard sarcastically.  
Shrugging, Gerard folded his arms and crossed the tile floor as Frank washed his hands.  
“Both.”  
They stood facing each other, exchanging looks they couldn’t identify. But what sent butterflies afloat in Frank’s stomach was the three more steps Gerard took, standing over Frank, his opened shirt dangerously displaying his heaving chest, heavy breaths tickling the top of Frank’s head from Gerard’s concert adrenaline come-down.  
'Don't do it,' Frank's brain said. “I’ve been thinking…” Frank whispered, making Gerard noticeably shiver.  
“We agreed not to do that.” Tried Gerard but his lips couldn't suppress turning up in a smirk.  
“Yeah…I also agreed not to do anything about it, but…”  
'Do not do it.' Frank's brain warned, louder. The next second took place in slow motion. First, Frank took in a breath. Then, Frank's hand hovered above the small of Gerard's back, skin buzzing. Finally, Frank voiced his last speck of hesitation.  
“I’m about to break our agreement so you’re going to have to forgive me…”  
'Do not!' It yelled. The rest of Frank's sentence faded with his mouth against Gerard’s, hardly caring the consequences at the moment. The strangest feeling gripped his head, making his thoughts hazy as he tasted Gerard; a mix of sweet and harsh bitterness. Slow, slow, movements, both of them unsure how to do this. Or if they even should. So, Frank took a leap of faith and pushed Gerard along, melting into his chest as Gerard tilted Frank’s chin up to kiss him better, Frank on the tips of his toes. He twisted his arms around Gerard’s back, holding him just above his belt line.  
Faster.  
Gerard backed Frank up against the wall of tile, putting his hands on either side behind his head, kissing him harder. Frank used this as the green light and lifted one leg around Gerard’s waist, using the wall for leverage. As he pressed against Frank to keep him steady, Gerard used one hand to lift up Frank’s other leg around him, fingers pressing into his thigh. And the other hand went elsewhere, sending a moan from Frank’s tongue to Gerard’s. Frank felt light headed but heavy at the same time, the ecstasy of Gerard’s touch a gravitational pull. Suddenly, their lips separated, Gerard moving his to Frank’s neck, quickly planting kisses along his jawline, no doubt getting a mouth full of glitter, but that somehow made it hotter.  
“Holy f-fu….” Frank whimpered, words failing him more and more as Gerard’s mouth traveled down to his collarbone, Frank shivering against the other boy.  
“Stop.” He hissed so softly Gerard didn’t hear him. “S-stop. Stop.”  
Gerard paused, suspended above Frank’s chest, looking up at him with maroon eyes.  
“I can’t. I- we can’t. You’re Mikey’s brother….”  
Pulling away, Gerard nearly dropped Frank, forgetting his limbs were still wrapped around him. Frank couldn’t believe what he’d started. He had feelings for Mikey and was channeling them and his rejection into Gerard. He felt sick.  
“So?” Asked Gerard, hurt spreading onto his features.  
“I’m sorry, I really am, I just can’t….”  
“Yeah. I get it, whatever.” Expression of hurt changed to anger and Gerard started for the door.  
“I feel bad, I’m sorry.”  
“You know, you should be, Frank, honestly, cause you started it. Way to lead a guy on. Now I’ve just embarrassed myself.”  
He left Frank in the bathroom. Again.


	4. Bruises and Shitty Apologies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the story continues ! I have so many wonderful plans for the next few chapters ! Thank you for your sweet comments ! Also, I'm changing the formatting a bit so everything isn't so jumbled :)
> 
> Song:  
> "I feel like I'm drowning" by Two Feet
> 
> \- A
> 
>  
> 
> _____________________________________________

Chapter 4

 

2:29 AM

Frank couldn’t sleep. He desperately wanted to be angry at Gerard because, ironically, he was the one to ruin Frank’s night, not Mikey. But the more he kept telling himself that lie, the less he believed it. Frank ruined the night all on his own.

2:30 AM

Maybe he should have just let what happened in the bathroom happen. Except then he could feel even guiltier, though he was already feeling pretty fucking guilty at the moment. There was no easy path last night could have taken.

2:31 AM

Why the hell did Gerard follow him to the bathroom in the first place? Or come onto him for that matter. They had an agreement! And Gerard broke it, leaving Frank to look like the asshole.

2:32 AM

But it felt good… Why did something so wrong feel right? That’s not how things are supposed to work…

2:33 AM

Maybe because it wasn’t wrong…

2:34 AM

No, it was definitely wrong.

2:35 AM

‘I can’t fucking sit here any longer’ Frank thought, ripping off his covers that made him sweat, though it was freezing. He caught a glimpse of himself in the hall mirror on his way out of the apartment, annoyed at the left-over glitter, still stuck to him no matter how hard he scrubbed in the shower. Sighing, he gently closes the door behind him, careful to be quiet.

The wind had calmed outside, but the temperature dropped at least ten degrees with the setting of the sun, and the street lamps didn’t do much for the darkness. Frank didn’t know where he expected to go, passing compacted neighborhoods. He strolled past the small convenience store, the windows dark and the sign flipped to ‘closed.’ 

Hard as he tried to ignore it, all of what was bothering him continued to trail behind him, making the efforts to clear his head fruitless. 

At a street corner, the names covered by fog, a scraping sound came from the stack of bins tucked against the side of an apartment building. Street lights didn’t reach the scene, so when Frank looked over, approaching cautiously as to not disrupt what he suspected was a raccoon, he could make out only the silhouette hunching over the contents of the spilled trash can. Slowly, to Frank’s horror, the figure straightened to its full height, and he knew this was no animal. 

Curiosity (and stupidity with a bit of self-destruction) won over fear and Frank kept his feet planted on the cement, the creature debating whether to leave its meal and explore the interruption. Frank, apparently, was more interesting. 

As it inched closer, Frank started to see the details of the creature’s face. Sunken eyes, black abysses like a skull. It moved closer. Now its eyes had glowing red pupils and lips soaked in maroon, dripping down its chin and neck, smeared on its bone-taught cheeks. 

But Frank couldn’t move, his curiosity satisfied yet his fight or flight wasn’t kicking in, or whatever survival shit was supposed to take over when someone was in serious fucking danger. Fuck. Maybe he really was a bit self-destructive because Frank clenched his fists so obviously he could move, he just didn’t want to. He shut his eyes, not wishing to see the nightmare any longer. 

Then, like a scene in an action movie, the air knocked out of his chest as he was flung backward into the street, landing flat on his back. He saw stars, but his eyes were still closed. Gasping, a pain in his right shoulder abruptly started, radiating down through the rest of his body like an electric current. 

Finally, he risked opening his eyes, terrified and in a hell of a lot of discomfort due to his throbbing shoulder. Frank rolled onto his other side while he breathed more cold air to stop his head from spinning. The creature was gone, nowhere to be found as Frank looked up and down the streets beside him. He also checked the spot where it had been, the pile of trash visible. Except instead of trash, Frank discovered it was a raccoon, lying in a pool of its own red liquid, inanimate and still. 

Pulling himself together, Frank stood and ran, or limped rather, as fast as he could manage back to his apartment, sinking into his bed when he reached it, and let out the cry he had been holding in all day into a pillow until sleep overtook him.

*****

Day 3

“Morning, sleepy head.” Ray teased when Frank sauntered into the sitting room the next morning, his head killing and hair as disheveled as could be, being that lifting a hairbrush caused a bit too much pain in his shoulder. Messy hair would do just fine. Frank was, however, worried about his ‘accident’ early that morning. When he’d arrived back to bed, he managed to sweat through his shirt and top sheet, hair still stuck to the back of his neck. 

It was a good damn thing no one payed him any attention walking shirtless from his and Ray’s room to the bathroom because the sight of him in the mirror was horrendous, and extremely purple. Spreading from his shoulder blade to the back of his right forearm, a bruise in an arrangement of nasty colors painted his skin. Frank didn’t dare touch it, as putting a long sleeve shirt over it hurt enough. Luckily, the limp hadn’t carried through the night. How fucking lucky for him.

“Fuck…” Frank had thought aloud. Thank god for the cold weather or else there would be no way to hide his discoloration in short sleeves.

“It’s more the afternoon, really.” Mikey added, holding out a made coffee cup for Frank. Frank grunted in thanks.

A body was missing from the sitting room, instead in the kitchen flipping through a comic, being anti-social. Frank’s heart panged with guilt seeing Gerard for the first time since last night.

Last night. The thought of the concert a seemingly lifetime ago felt fuzzy and dream-like. Or maybe that was the pain meds he just poured into his stomach. Either way, it wouldn’t be easy rebuilding whatever sort of trust Frank had gained from Gerard. That boy was doing something to Frank’s head, he was sure of it. Because never in his life had Frank been so impulsive and stupid and self-destructive.

“So, what’s on the agenda today, lads?” Frank said brightly, determined not to let the rest of this trip go to waste due to his own childish whims.

Mikey squinted. “Not so loud…” He buried the heels of his hands over the sockets of his closed eyes.

“He’s a bit hungover.” Ray explained in a whispered tone.

“No kidding.”

Yesterday, Mikey had the truly brilliant idea to not plan any tourist outings today, knowing half the day would be slept through and at least one of them would be nursing a hangover or in Frank’s case, nursing what felt like a shattered shoulder blade. But then, he was a bit dramatic.

“Right. I’ve promised my mom I’d give her a call after I landed but… I totally forgot. So excuse me while I make up for being a shitty son.” Ray rose from the sofa with a nod and disappeared into his and Frank’s shared room. Frank took his spot next to Mikey and awkwardly sipped from his coffee.

Try as he might to ignore it all together, Frank needed closure. Looking at Mikey’s side profile, his stomach flipped. Mikey’s eyes had followed Ray until he vanished behind the door and even still his gaze lingered. Finally, he tilted his chin, sharp and defined, much like Gerard’s, Frank observed, and fiddled with his hands. Something else he and his brother shared.

“Got a thing for him or something?” Frank said as nonchalantly as he could manage. Mikey turned to him abruptly.

“W-what, why do you say that?”

Frank shrugged. “I’m not blind. You can tell me if you do, I’m your best friend.”

Mikey still seemed shocked at Frank’s sudden question, but slowly pulled together while Frank braced himself for whatever it was Mikey was going to say.

“Didn’t think I was being that obvious…” He thought aloud, and Frank let out a snort.

So that’s it, then. Frank got his answer. And… he honestly didn’t feel any different. A little let down, sure, but he was already positive of Mikey’s feelings. His heart didn’t feel broken, he certainly wasn’t going to cry like a bitch about it.

“What does he think of you?” Frank tried.

“The same, maybe. I think. We don’t really talk about it. I feel weird talking to you about it.”

“Oh, come on, man, I’ve told you every bit of drama in my life and you take it like a champ. Let me listen to you for once.”

Mikey released a sigh of relief beside him, grinning.

“Good to know you don’t mind listening to my bullshit.”

Maybe, just maybe, Frank was okay with how this was playing out. Because he and his best mate were having some kind of soppy-without-any-tears moment.

“He tried to kiss me last night, while you were gone.” Continued Mikey. “I don’t know why I didn’t let him.”

Sounds familiar, Frank thought.

“You shouldn’t feel like you have to kiss someone if you’re not ready to. Even if you do have feelings for them.” Frank was doing his best at giving advice in this strange situation.

“Yeah… but I think I want to. I’m just scared, maybe.”

“Do whatever you feel like you can handle. But I swear to god if I catch you two fucking in this apartment I will throw myself out the window.”

Gasping, Mikey shoved Frank off the couch. “Fuck off. Way to ruin a fine moment of therapy.”

Frank nodded solemnly and played along. “Yes, and how did that make you feel?”

The conversation ended with Mikey hitting Frank in the face with a couch cushion.

*****

The rest of the day was uneventful, the only slightly interesting moments being Frank and Mikey playing tug of war with the bottle of Advil. Collectively, the four devoured unhealthy levels of caffeine, attempted to get the TV to work with its rabbit ear antennas which even when tilted in the right position the screen was fuzzy and barely audible, but they cackled over a black-and-white SpongeBob marathon anyway, and cleaned out the pantry. Ray almost burnt the building down by cooking a box of pasta without any water in the pot. The smell was horrid, and the windows were to remain open until tomorrow. Maybe four newly-adults shouldn’t be trusted to live alone in another country…. Or at all, really.

Frank acted all content and happy, and he was, kind of, but watching Gerard out of the corner of his eye hurt his chest. He, though never being cruelly obvious, sat as far from Frank as he could. He didn’t look physically different, he snorted when everyone else laughed, contributed to conversations, played along nicely. But Frank could sense his grief from across the room. Frank wondered if Mikey could tell his brother wasn’t being himself. Probably not. Because Gerard wasn’t the happy social butterfly to begin with.

God, why did Frank always have to be such an asshole? He was the reason an already shy and dark demeanor boy had his trip across the globe ruined.

Frank knew he should leave it be; he’d done enough damage, but when Gerard rose from the sitting room to refill his mug again, Frank couldn’t help but follow him. Casually, of course. 

“You’re avoiding me.” It wasn’t a question. Frank busied himself with unloading the dishwasher.

Gerard stopped mid-pouring the coffee pot. “I’m not.” He wouldn’t look up.

Frank probably should have thought out what he was going to say, because words were flowing from his lips without judgement. “Look, I’m really sorry, I feel like shit. I didn’t mean to… you know, hurt your feelings or anything. It’s not you, really. Sorry, I mean it, you’re like, fit as fuck. And a damn good kisser. But I- I thought it wasn’t okay because you’re Mikey’s brother, and that would be wei…”

“Shut up, my god you talk a lot.” Gerard interrupted Frank’s impromptu speech, biting his lip to keep in a grin.

Red bloomed in Frank’s cheeks. “Sorry.”

“You said that already.”

“Sorr… okay.”

They fiddled with the dishes in their hands while standing in silence, both leaning against the counter.

“I’m a good kisser?” Gerard asked faintly.

Shit.

Frank almost dropped the ceramic plate he was holding, chewing on the insides of his cheeks, searching for an acceptable answer. If he answered honestly, it would be flat out yes. Fuck yes. But that didn’t seem appropriate. But then again, what about any of this was appropriate?

“Not bad.” He decided on, and Gerard’s eyes lit up the slightest bit, finally meeting Frank’s. Gerard smirked, shaking his head, and headed back to the sitting room.

“I’m still pissed at you.” He said without looking back.

That, Frank could deal with.


	5. Doctors with Glasses and Suspicious Eye Rolls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah ! I had a bit of writer's block, but now I am really starting to get into this story ! Thanks for your patience <3
> 
> -A
> 
> Song:  
> "New Light" by John Mayer
> 
> ___________________________________________

Chapter 5

“Okay, this has been great and all, but I’m bored as fuck.” Mikey draped himself over the couch upside down, throwing a balled-up piece of paper in the air monotonously. The SpongeBob marathon was long over, and the night lights were creeping into the open windows, washing the dark wood floors with streams of moonbeams and the overall vibe of contentment and laziness, which about summed up their day. Not once did the boys walk out the apartment door, but the outside cold air still managed to get under their skin due to poorly insulated walls.

The four sat in a row, each wrapped in a blanket. Dinner sat in their stomachs, empty pizza boxes on the coffee table.

“Agreed.” Ray said, his teeth chattering from the chill.

Quiet again, they brainstormed what activity they could take up so late at night.

“We could have a foursome.” Ray suggested with a smirk.

Frank prayed his blushing cheeks and exchanged looks with Gerard were hidden by the three pillows being throw at Ray by each of them. In the crossfire, Mikey accidently elbowed Frank’s bad shoulder, sending a bolt of pain down his right side. He froze mid-swing, letting go of the pillow to cradle his injury, hissing between his teeth.

“Sorry, man.” Offered Mikey, looking over Frank’s expression, confused, as Frank squeezed his eyes shut, seeing blobs of color with the fading of his last dose of pain medicine.

“You good, Frank?” Gerard hesitated before reaching out to touch his arm when Frank didn’t answer.

Coming to his senses, Frank relaxed his face before reassuring the group. “Yeah, bumped it on the counter earlier. Still sore.”

Mikey and Ray shrugged it off, but Gerard lingered his gaze, sympathetic but mostly suspicious, and under that, a bit of fear that Frank subconsciously ignored.

The night was dragged on by card games and more television, no one willing to bundle up and leave the comfort of the apartment. The first to concede to sleepiness was Ray, claiming to still be suffering from jet leg, being he arrived a day later. Mikey followed not long after, but due to boredom rather than physical need.

Frank found himself, yet again, alone with Gerard, but the buzzing tension that presented itself before had faded away. Yes, Gerard still had a cold shoulder toward Frank, he said so himself, but the universe was already working in their favor. Trust wasn’t impossible to obtain. But being on speaking terms didn’t make the empty apartment less awkward, the two of them claiming opposite sides of the couch, tightening their limbs close to their bodies insecurely. The TV flickered before them, but neither payed it any mind.

“Toss me the remote, will you?” Gerard blurted.

Frank braced himself and used all his energy on keeping his expression neutral as he reached to the coffee table, retrieving the remote with his left arm, and handing it over with his right.

Instead of taking hold of the plastic, Gerard clasped the tips of Frank’s fingers so he couldn’t let go and yanked ever so slightly, Frank’s right arm following the gesture, his shoulder lurching forward. Immediately, Frank freed from Gerard’s grip, an uncontrollable gasp of pain escaping before he could stop it.

“What the hell?!” He cried, hiding his right arm with his left as intuition’s protection.

Gerard, while looking unsurprised and unphased, murmuring to himself.

“What?” Asked Frank, confused as ever.

“I knew it.” The other boy clarified, surer of his words this time. “That you didn’t hurt yourself on the counter.”

Truly, Frank hadn’t expected that. First, why did Gerard even care? Since when was Frank’s personal life any of his business? Second, how the hell was he able to tell Frank was lying? It was such a simple thing to say, like if someone asked why they were wearing a band-aid. They just were, it didn’t matter the details. It was a split-second of conversation. What relevance was it to Gerard?

Gerard stood up from the sofa, arms crossed seriously. “Take your shirt off.” He said firmly.

“If you want to make out just let me know…” Teased Frank.

“Not like that. Take it off.”

And because Gerard was so persuasive, with his melted iron tone and brick hurricane eyes, or simply because Frank had repressed attraction to him, he obliged.

Frank stood his ground as Gerard observed his shoulder, brushing his fingertips gingerly over the raised and colored skin. He didn’t cower at the touch, as he might have if the situation took place just a day earlier. Too many changes occurred on Gerard’s face for Frank to read, but eyes lowering to where Frank’s tattoos on his ribcage were now disfigured and purple, he was a single emotion: angry. 

Then, his lips frowning on one side…. Sad?

“You need to see a doctor.”

“N-no I don’t. I’m fine.” Even Frank didn’t believe his words, let alone Gerard, who glared.

“Come on.” He leapt into action, retrieving their coats and handing Frank’s over.

“You’re being ridiculous!” Frank said, exasperated. He really just wanted to go to bed.

Pausing, Gerard turned back to him. “Fine. If you can do a jumping-jack, we can stay here.”

Frank bowed his head and reluctantly followed Gerard out the door.

*****

“Stop looking at it.”

Frank was sat atop an examination bed in the mostly empty A&E, thin curtains separating them from other patients. With it being a weeknight, and a fraction of luck, they didn’t have to wait long. Frank’s major concern had been if being a tourist had more requirements for treatment and they’d be there all night, but it didn’t seem to be an issue.

Slowly, Gerard peeled his eyes off Frank’s shoulder, which was partially hidden under a blue hospital gown. A gown that made Frank hyper-aware of the breeze coming in from the revolving doors. He was very careful to keep himself covered and regretted not forcing Gerard to stay in the waiting room, but Gerard insisted he come.

“You…you don’t think there’s anything really wrong, do you?” Frank asked.

Gerard shrugged. “It’s pretty ugly. But I’m not a doctor.”

That gave Frank no reassurance what-so-ever.

“How’d it happen?”

A number of stories appeared in Frank’s head, some reasonable, like he fell down the stairs, some not so much, like a black-silhouetted beast with burning red eyes sending him flying across the road. But maybe telling the truth wasn’t the best choice at the moment. Though there was something about the mysterious brother that made Frank weak in the knees, and willing to spill his guts. It wasn’t that he was particularly charming or extra-ordinarily kind, in fact he was quite a dick. But Frank established that from their meeting. So, what was it that gave Frank butterflies? Gerard Way was simply…different. Strange. And it was exhilarating.

“it’s interesting, really…”

“Ok, what seems to be the problem, Mr. Iero?” The curtain squeaked on its hinges and a well put-together middle-aged man burst into the space, reading over his clipboard, his glasses sliding down his thin nose.

“Um, my shoulder.” Frank warily rolled up the short sleeve as much as it would go.

The doctor looked up from his stack of papers. “Take off your gown for me?”

After Frank removed the plastic cover-up, now sitting in just his boxers, he filled his lungs and exhaled slowly, trying to disperse the blush on his cheeks. At least Gerard detected Frank’s embarrassment and looked away again, messing with his wrist bands.

“That’s quite a bruise, Mr. Iero, how did that happen?” Doctor Terry, as his name tag read, moved around to the other side of the table, examining Frank’s injury with furrowed eyebrows.

“Fell down the stairs.” Frank noted Gerard’s eye roll at his excuse.

Dr. Terry tapped his arm, starting at his forearm up to his neck and down his back.

“Tell me if anything hurts.”

Every few moments, the doctor wrote something down that made Frank curious and more worried than he had been earlier. He really wasn’t in the mood to have a serious trauma. When Frank winced as the touch on his lower back, Dr. Terry took another furiously written note.

“Are you able to lift your arm above your head?”

Frank shook his head. Another few minutes of unpleasant observation and the doctor’s cold hands moving Frank’s injury in uncomfortable positions, he stood back in front of Frank.

“Right, well I don’t think it’s anything serious. I was concerned about the swelling, especially because it’s close to your spine, but it doesn’t seem to be internal bleeding, just some muscle strain. Ice it and rest for a few days and the swelling should heal up, but if it doesn’t, come back in. For now, I’m going to prescribe some pain medication, okay?”

Nodding, Frank put back on his clothes and jacket. “Okay. Thanks.”

Dr. Terry nodded, all professional, and left the discharge and prescription papers, and disappeared down the hall of makeshift cubicles.

“Sorry for making you worry for nothing.” Gerard said, slinging his coat over his arm.

“’S not for nothing. Could’ve been worse. And I got narcos out of it.”

Snorting, Gerard led the way to the checkout desk.

“But, seriously Gee, please don’t ask me again about what happened. I’m not discussing it.” Gee. Frank had never called him that before. But the other boy didn’t make anything of it.

“I won’t.”

That’s it? He just drops the subject like that? Somewhere, deep, deep down, Frank might have wanted to tell the story to Gerard. He wasn’t good at keeping secrets. His choice of words and intentions even confused himself.

The cab ride home was quiet and uneventful. The clouds decided to downpour while they were at the hospital and the car splashed through the aftermath. Even after the adventure, the night was still a bit young, not even two AM. Partygoers passed in groups, leaning on each other as they stumbled home. In the stairwell up to the apartment, a woman asked if they’d seen her shoe, which Frank promptly reminded her that it was on her foot. 

Mikey and Ray must have been fast asleep, the rooms as silent as the streets. But Frank had a sneaking suspicion they hadn’t been in their separate dorms while he and Gerard were gone. The thought might’ve even made Frank smile. But just a bit.

“Thanks for taking me. I wouldn’t have gone on my own.” Frank spoke softly, hand on his bedroom doorknob.

Gerard turned around from hanging his outerwear on a hook. “No problem.”

He moved to his and Mikey’s room, but looked over his shoulder.

“Give that raccoon my condolences.” And he disappeared behind the door followed by the click of a lock.

Frank had another sleepless night going over every single possible rationality for Gerard’s parting words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my apologies if my knowledge of Accident and Emergency (A&E) isn't perfect, I wrote what I could with what research I could find :)


	6. The British Museum and 'Not Quite'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back ! Please forgive me for my absence, I've had quite the busy schedule. But I think I can make it up to you with this chapter.
> 
> Song recommendations:  
> "Bored" By Billie Eilish  
> "Shrike" By Hozier
> 
> -A
> 
>  
> 
> ____________________________________________________________________________________

Chapter 6

Day 4

‘Did he follow me? Do I talk in my sleep? Can he read my fucking mind?’ Frank thought about any and all explanations he could come up with and none made any sense. Except the first. Maybe Gerard did follow Frank that night and saw what went down. If that was the case, just the thought pissed Frank off because Gerard obviously didn’t have any desire to help Frank in his time of need. He needed a plan of confrontation. Problem was, however, it seemed Gerard could, in fact, read Frank’s mind as Gerard was going above and beyond to make sure he wasn’t left alone with him, focusing intently on the blunt ends of his oil spill hair whenever Frank attempted eye contact.

Their day touring around central London left zero opportunities for Frank to question Gerard, not if he wanted to avoid Mikey and Ray hearing the whole endeavor. At the moment, they stood in front of a massive statue of some naked dude in the British Museum and Frank couldn’t absorb a word the tour guide was saying. She spoke far too fast, switching languages every other sentence for the members of the tour from France, and only stopped at a historic piece for a minute before promptly moving on. 

“Fuckin’ hell.” Frank whined. 

He knew he should be soaking up as much knowledge as he could, the museum was truly magnificent, and he blamed Gerard entirely for his lack of enthusiasm, but his feet hurt, he was hungry, and he didn’t have time to make coffee this morning because they had to be at the entrance to the museum at eight A-fucking-M.

Somewhere in the Egyptian exhibit, Frank’s vivid imagination took the sight of a mummy in a sarcophagus behind thick sheets of glass and twisted its similarities into the monster he saw so a few hours ago. And then he went down another familiar spiral of recollection.

Up until then, he hadn’t really come to terms with what he’d seen. Or what he thought he’d seen. Because it couldn’t possibly be real. Shit like that didn’t exist. Only in horror movies and Stephen King novels. And he would be totally convinced he imagined the whole thing except the battle scars he had to show for it. So maybe he was just crazy. Like fucking off-his-rocker crazy. Balls and dick out crazy.

That mummy really did resemble the monster, though. The sunken eye sockets, skin-tight bones…

So instead of trying to reason that the thing didn’t exist, he tried to reason what it could be. Absolutely not an animal; too tall. Not a man; too fast and strong. Maybe a robot. Or a zombie. Or Frank should stop watching so much TV because he sounded even crazier than before.

“That’s pretty cool, huh?” Ray appeared at Frank’s side, matching his slow pace.

“What was?” Frank asked absentmindedly.

“The Egyptian stuff. I didn’t know they kept organs in jars. Sick.”

“Oh, gross.”

Frank kept his eyes on his shoes, picking at the skin around his fingernails. The awkward air between him and Ray was unprecedented, and he shouldn’t pay it any mind, but Frank was curious about what Mikey must have told him. Honestly, it was the last thing Frank cared about at the moment.

“Hey you alright, man?” Ray talked low, slowing his pace to separate from the group.

Frank cleared his throat, so his voice didn’t crack. “Yeah, yeah, just bored I guess.”

Ray raised a single eyebrow. “Bored? In the British Museum?”

“Um, yeah.”

“Nothing to do with Gerard keeping you on the other end of a ten-foot-pole?

Tripping over his words, and his feet, Frank looked Ray over. Was it that obvious? Cause that’s fucking embarrassing.

“No idea what you’re talking about.”

The other boy scoffed. “Right. Well, in that case, I won’t tell you what Mikey told me about the two of you.”

When Frank stopped short in the middle of the stream of tourists, a pair of Botox-skinned old ladies ran into the back of him and proceeded to mumble under their breath about the dreadful poorly-dressed youth. Ray continued walking, and Frank had no choice but to catch up or be left in the Victorian furniture exhibit.

“W-what, uh, what did he say? Just curious…”  
With a smirk, Ray glanced between Frank and Gerard, who was the appropriate ten feet away.

“You’ll be glad to know that Mikey is shit at keeping secrets. Long story short, Gerard’s acting weird, won’t tell Mikey a thing, blah blah blah. But the interesting part is his commentary on the way he acts around you. Gerard doesn’t talk much. Not even to his brother. So you gotta understand how abnormal it is to see him whispering all secret like in the kitchen with you. Going out late hours in the night….”

“I knew you weren’t asleep.”

“He trusts you. Gerard doesn’t trust anyone. Don’t fuck it up.”

None of this was new information to Frank. But hearing it aloud, how Gerard was different around Frank, how he trusted him, even after knowing each other for such a short period of time… it was like walking into a haunted house. You know something is going to jump out and scare you, but you’re stomach drops to the floor anyway. And true to a haunted house, Frank didn’t know what was about to jump out and scare him.

“I think I might already have.” Frank mourned.

“You haven’t. You would know if you had.”

Descending the grand marble staircase that wrapped around the lobby of the museum, the tour guide stopped.

“This is the end of the tour. C'est la fin du tour. Thank you for joining me. Merci de m'avoir rejoint. I hope you have a good afternoon. J'espère que vous passez un bon après-midi.”

She pivoted on the heels of her shoes and took off toward the entrance to meet another group, her tight blonde curls bouncing behind her.

One by one, individual families pointed to spots on the pages of the map to visit next, others packed up their cameras and untied raincoats from around their waists. The group of four were left standing on the stairs with their mud-soaked boots.

“I need a drink.” Sighed Mikey

“It’s not even four in the afternoon.”

“Yeah, ‘cause that’s ever stopped us.”

Heads down and hoods up, the group walked out into the downpour and around the corner to the overhang of the tube station. Once in the dry tiled tunnel, they stopped to catch their breath and look at the map.

“Alright. We need to take the Baker Loo Line North for like three stations, then switch. But it leaves in a minute, so we should hop on.” Ray took control, leaning the way.

“I’m not feeling too great. You all go ahead, I’ll meet you back at the apartment.”

Before anyone could respond, Gerard headed off to another line.

*****

The pub wasn’t crowded, but not empty either. Ray leaned against the bar, ordering another round of pints and conversing with the tender while Mikey and Frank sat waiting in a velvet-seated booth, a dark mahogany table in front of them.

“Do you not think that’s weird?”

Mikey continued to observe a moose head mounted on the wall. “What is?”

“Gerard.” Enough said.

Shrugging, Mikey gave Frank his full attention. “He gets in a mood sometimes. It’s best to let it be; let him have some time to himself.”

“Does it happen often?”

“Not often, but it’s not uncommon. Gerard’s a bit…off.”

Right away, Mikey’s expression gave away he regretted what he said, but Frank picked up on it.

“Off? How?”

“Well, not off, but he’s…burdened, I guess is the best way to put it.”

Frank groaned, exasperated. “That’s all I’m going to get, isn’t it?”

Mikey gave him an apologetic smile.

“Fine.” Frank stood as Ray set the beers down on the table. “I’ll just have to find out myself.”

“Frank, that might not be the best-“

But Frank was already out the door.

 

*****  
Frank found Gerard sitting on the front steps of the apartment building, his back to Frank, ominously staring out at the street under the barely visible moonlight. The rain had stopped, and the night sky was filled with the unnatural city screen reflections, rather than the stars, not unlike Jersey, being next to New York City, the brightest city in the world. 

Gerard sloshed the drink in his hand gingerly. 

“You know what I’m going to ask you,” Frank spoke behind him, Gerard unphased.

He sighed, slouching on the marble stair. “I do.” He said, finishing off his whiskey.

Channeling his alcohol buzz, Frank tried to pluck up his courage.

“So, ask.” The other boy ordered, louder.

Frank let the air out of his lungs. Took a deep breath. Then another. “You followed me that night. And you saw what happened. And you did nothing.”

He should be angry. But Frank was just scared.

Snorting, then throwing his head back in laughter, Gerard teased, “Good guess. But not quite.”

“Wh-What do you mean ‘not quite?’”

‘Don’t look scared, don’t look scared’ Repeated Frank’s brain.

“Use that head of yours, c’mon. You really think I’d be that interested in where you’re going in the middle of the night?”

When Frank stayed silent, in a loss for words, Gerard continued.

“I didn’t follow you that night, Frank. You followed me.” And Gerard met Frank’s eyes.

Frank’s realization hit him slowly, then all at once. Like a weight was being pressed against his chest, and suddenly it fell, crushing his lungs beneath it. Like when the wind was knocked out of him in the street…

His voice trembled, hardly above a whisper. “A-are you-you s-sick?”

That had to be the explanation…right?

The monster in the alleyway, its dark silhouette, its red eyes… Details filled themselves in. Its sharp jawline, Gerard’s jawline. Its eyes, Gerard’s maroon-dipped eyes. The veil of black around its face, Gerard’s raven hair. Of course.

“Yeah, probably.”

“It’s…okay. It’s okay. I want to help, let me help-“

Gerard stood in a flash, smashing his glass on the ground, exploding with frustration and rage. “Don’t you get it? You can’t ‘help’ everyone! My brother and Ray, me, there is nothing you can do! Not a fucking thing!”

Now Frank was scared. But still, that small something about the boy, hidden beneath layers of protection, kept him from running away.

“Okay. Then help me to understand. M’not going anywhere.” Frank rose and straightened as tall as he could manage.

“There’s nothing you could understand. I stayed away from you, you should have stayed away from me. I could kill you, I could snap your neck and drink every ounce of blood in your body-“

Frank shut him up by not-so-smoothly, or as attractively as he’d hoped, colliding his lips against Gerard’s furiously heated mouth.

Gerard didn’t pull away, but he didn’t feed into it. He just stood there, his arms limp at his side. Frank was the first to break.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” Frank’s heart sank at Gerard’s genuinely fearful tone. Before, Frank honestly wasn’t sure Gerard cared at all. But he did.

“You’re not going to hurt me.”

“I could. I already did.” He laid his fingertips on Frank’s bad shoulder, keeping the amount of space between them, but not too close.

Frank took Gerard’s hand off him and kept it wrapped in his own.

“I’m not hurt. I’m just being toughened up a bit. I’ve had worse.”

Gerard didn’t reply, and Frank set his other hand on Gerard’s waist.

Mikey’s words rang in Frank’s mind. ‘He’s burdened.’

“We’ve already gone this far, remember?” He reminded him softly. “Then I made the mistake going backward. I won’t do that again. Because I can’t stay away from you. So it’ll be horribly inconvenient if you keep your distance from me.”

Gerard placed a palm on Frank’s chest, Frank’s stomach spilling nervous heat. 

“I don’t think I can bear to stay away from you anymore.” Gerard’s words blew on Frank’s nose, Frank subtly going on his tip-toes to be closer to the other boy’s lips. He could feel Gerard’s apprehension to kiss him back.

“Now you know why I had to stay away from you.”

Now Frank knew.

They held their positions for what seemed like hours but couldn’t be more than a few minutes.

“When will they be back?”

As if on cue, Frank’s phone buzzed in his pocket.

He looked at the caller ID and picked up, not separating from Gerard. “Hey, Ray.”

“Don’t freak out-“ His voice was blurred by the others in the background. “-but there’s a club we want to check out. Will you be okay if we’re out late?”

Frank smiled. “Yeah. Don’t get into any trouble; I’m not bailing you out of jail again.”

“That was an accident!” Defended Ray and hung up.

A smirk stretched across Gerard’s face when Frank turned back to him.

“The love-birds are going clubbing?” He asked, doubtingly.

“I’m not asking any questions if they don’t ask any in return.”

Gerard nodded. Frank could tell he was itching to break away, but at the same time didn’t want to. He wasn’t used to this.

Frank, on the other hand, couldn’t keep his damn hands to himself but restrained as to not scare him off. He had to do this delicately.

So, as delicately as possible, Frank tried again, this time kissing Gerard light as a feather.

And, sure enough, Gerard kissed him back, nudging Frank’s mouth open, transferring the mix of sweet, bitter, and whiskey. Their chests pressed against each other, one hand holding Gerard’s and the other still levitating above his waist. Gerard’s other hand uncertainly resting at the dip of Frank’s spine, tilting their heads and lips in sync.

“Upstairs.” Frank murmured, still kissing the other boy.

But Gerard shook his head and drew back. “Not tonight.”

Frank couldn’t hide his hurt feelings.

“Not ‘never,’ just not tonight.” Promised Gerard.

Frank felt like they were starting over, and that was good enough for him.


	7. Hickeys and Hunting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love this chapter; hope you all will too !!  
> thank you for all your lovely comments !  
> -A
> 
> Song Recommendations:  
> "Moi c'est" by Camelia Jordana  
> "Always" by Panic! at the Disco
> 
> ___________________________________________________

Day 5

Starting over turned out to be harder than it originally seemed. Gerard would catch Frank looking at him and Frank would turn away. Frank would catch Gerard eyeing him, reading him, and Gerard would continue to stare. It wasn’t awkward, just…quiet. Shy. Hesitant.

And Frank definitely did not jerk off to the thought of Gerard looking him up and down. No, of course not.

Then there was the other issue. True to his word, Frank was more or less okay with whatever the hell it was Gerard possessed, be it superpowers or the curse of the undead, but he could feel Gerard’s wavering indecision if it was the right choice to tell Frank the truth. But like he said, Frank didn’t plan on going anywhere. How could he? This was by far the most interesting thing to happen to him ever. He always knew he would survive in a slasher film, but now he was literally living a horror story.

And besides his body physically telling him, being his shoulder still giving him hell, to run away from this potential danger, Frank wouldn’t listen. Not just because he’s stupid and wanted to see how his horror story would end, but because within its plot was his bubbling and slowly developing feelings for Gerard. So, he was also part of a romance novel, apparently. Frank’s falling for a guy who happens to be a monster by night and could actually suck all five liters of his blood. Fan-fucking-tastic. He really did have the shittiest choice in companions. But he couldn’t bring himself to regret anything.

Only managing a few hours of sleep, Frank stared at the ceiling before being disturbed by Ray stumbling into their shared bedroom at approximately four-thirty in the morning.

“Someone had a fun night.” Frank said, sitting up.

“Yeah? What’d-did-you do?” Ray asked while struggling to take his shoes off.

“No, I mean you. You had a fun night.” 

Finally achieving bare feet, Ray flopped face-down on his comforter, his arms at his sides like a plank. “Yup. Yes. Yes, I did.” His voice muffled.

Frank held in a laugh. “How drunk are you?”

Lifting just his head up, and looking quite ridiculous doing so, Ray side-eyed Frank. “I don’t even kn-know if you’re rr-Frank orr- Gerr-ard.”

Laughter was uncontrollable at this point. “Alright, buddy, get some sleep.” Ray didn’t have to be told twice as Frank’s phone dinged on his bedside table.

Gerard: Is Ray as wasted as Mikey?

Frank texted back: if mikey can’t form coherent sentences, then yes.

Gerard: And here I thought we had an eventful night.

What should he respond with? How much more eventful was their night compared to Frank’s? 

Frank: idk we had a pretty interesting night.

Gerard: …

Gerard: Mikey’s got hickeys the size of Jersey.

Well, damn.

Frank: damn

Gerard: If we count your shoulder, the competition is about tied.

Frank: not sure if hickeys are on the same scale as being thrown into the street

The other boy didn’t respond for a few minutes; Frank regretted mentioning that night, not wanting to push Gerard even further. But Gerard brought it up, so, technically it’s not his fault.

Gerard: Sorry about that.

Frank: not what i meant. don’t want an apology

Gerard: What do you want?

Frank typed faster than he could think.

Frank: id accept a hickey

‘Too far’ Frank started to cringe until he got another message.

Gerard: A reasonable request. However, I am unable to adhere to it at this time as Mikey has fallen asleep on my lap after spilling the gruesome details of his and our friend Ray’s evening.

Chuckling about Gerard’s sarcastic formality, he replied.

Frank: gross

Gerard: Gross.

*****

When Frank woke up again, the clock read ten thirty-seven, a later start than usual. But Ray still snored into his pillow loud enough to shake the walls- how Frank slept through that he didn’t know- so Frank escaped to the kitchen to start the coffee.

Since arriving in London, the boys had gone through three large bags of coffee grounds and Mikey a box of hot chocolate packets. But Frank didn’t see the harm in a little higher heart rate. He was a grown-ass adult. Kind of.

Gerard already stood in the kitchen, leaning against the cabinets, sipping from a mug as the coffee pot dripped another round of caffeine into a large glass. The shades of the window above the sink were wisped open, the frame ajar, letting in cool air, and the sounds of London were just audible over the hum of the coffee maker.

“Morning.” Said Frank, searching for a clean mug. The problem with having four boys living alone together was that laundry and dishes only got done when there’s absolutely nothing left to wear or eat off of.

“Mhm.” Gerard answered, the cup against his lips.

Frank continued to watch Gerard in his periphery, suddenly fascinated with an everyday habit.

“Can I ask you something?” He tried. Frank was desperate for answers, but he would take his time getting them. Start small.

Gerard raised an eyebrow and squinted, debating. “Okay.”

“So, you can eat, like, normal food,” Not a question. “but, um, how? Like do you have to? Or is it optional?” Hopefully, his point got across in the way he intended.

Gerard wasn’t fazed. Or if he was, he didn’t show it. “I don’t think I have to. But I’ve never tested it.”

On the tip of his tongue was Frank’s real question: Why did he have to drink animal blood?

“I do have to- “He continued, lowering his voice. “-feed, as I started calling it. Couldn’t think of a better name.” Gerard frowned, tapping the sides of the ceramic in his hands.

“What happens if you don’t?” Frank didn’t know when was too far, but he persisted.

The other boy sighed. “Um, I’m not positive, but I think I’d starve. Or go crazy, or something. I’ve gone a few weeks and I was fucking miserable.”

Frank felt guilty, but he wasn’t finished yet. “Just animals?”

Shaking his head, Gerard put down his empty mug to use both hands as leverage, hopping up and resting on the countertop. “It’s good enough. Doesn’t last as long as humans’, but that feels wrong, you know?”

Frank nodded, like he understood a thing about what Gerard was talking about. Frank sensed this wasn’t a topic of conversation Gerard liked very much, but he tentatively discussed it with him all the same. Progress.

After a few moments, he added, “Hunt.”

“What?”

“You could call it hunting. ‘Feeding’ sounds…gross. No offense.”

Gerard gave a small half-smile. “Yeah. I like that much better.”

Frank moved to stand in front of Gerard, who sat cross-legged on the counter looking down at him. He chewed the inside of his cheek and placed a hand on Gerard’s leg, thumbing the space above his knee. Gerard shivered under his touch but didn’t shy away.

“’M a little new at this.” Explained Gerard.

Yes, he was. But Frank was patient. This wasn’t like the concert bathroom. This felt real. 

Frank inched closer, sliding his hands up the sides of Gerard’s legs, stopping at his waistband. “Is this okay?”

Gerard nodded, brushing a piece of stray hair behind Frank’s ear. He then traced his lips with a single fingertip, starting at Frank’s cupid bow, around to the corners of his smile, and down to his chin, cupping his face in his hands

For the first time, Gerard was the one to kiss Frank, however spur of the moment it was. Unlike last night, it was sure and unhesitant. The gesture lasted a minute or two, but Gerard pulled his lips away as uncertainty flooded him once again. But he kept his face close, resting his forehead against Frank’s and looking down at the other boy’s chest. Now, Frank felt bigger, more confident, than Gerard, but he didn’t like it. He didn’t think it was possible for Gerard to feel small, but here they were.

“Sorry.” 

“’S fine.” Frank held Gerard’s hands that had fallen from his face.

“I’d- I don’t know why I’m so worried about hurting you all of the sudden. I wasn’t before.” Sighed Gerard.

But Gerard did know. He knew why every single one of his instincts was telling him to be careful with this fragile boy, to stop before they went too far.

Because he had come to care for Frank.

*****

It was four in the afternoon before Mikey and Ray showed any signs of life after their fun-filled night. Frank had dozed off on the sofa, lying with his knees to his chest and his head on the armrest while Gerard sat next to him, his nose in a comic book. Sometime during Frank’s nap, he tried to stretch out further but was stopped by the limited amount of space as Gerard took up the other half of the couch. Gerard raised his eyebrows at Frank’s unconscious gesture, but nonetheless moved Frank’s ankles so they laid across his lap, giving him more room, and continued reading his latest X-Men comic.

The shuffling of Mikey’s feet and the opening of Ray and Frank’s bedroom door made Gerard look up, and Frank blinked his eyes open.

“You’re alive!” Croaked Frank, rubbing his cheek with the heal of his hand, the pattern of the couch lightly imprinted on his skin.

“Don’t be so sure. I feel like death.” Mikey picked up the cold coffee sitting on the table in front of the boys, not caring who it belonged to, and drank it with a wrinkle of his nose.

“I’ll make a fresh batch.” Ray trudged into the kitchen.

Frank waited until he was out of earshot. “So? Fun night?”

Mikey rolled his eyes, flopping down in a chair. “What if it was?”

Holding his hands up in defense, Frank said, “Didn’t mean anything by it. Just wondering. What was the club like?”

He fiddled with his hands, then with his hair, all ruffled and wild first thing in the morning. Well, afternoon. “Not really your scene.”

“What’s that mean?” Frank tried not to notice Gerard eyeing them in his periphery, hiding behind his comic book.

Mikey opened his mouth but shook his head before he could say anything. “Nothing. Never mind.”

Before the awkward air could sit any longer, Ray came back in with two cups of steaming coffee. He handed one to Mikey, his fingers lingering over Mikey’s...

‘Oh. That kind of club’ Frank realized, mentally smacking his forehead with his palm. ‘I’m actually an idiot.’

“I don’t think the London Eye closes ‘till later; we could still make it. Then dinner after?” Ray suggested, already perking up from the caffeine.

Mikey nodded, grateful for an interruption. “Yeah. We have time.”

*****

As Ray had predicted on the tube, the line for the tourist attraction was none. “The trains are completely empty; there won’t be anyone around.” He had said. Sure enough, the four bought their tickets and walked right in a capsule.

The London Eye was made of steel panels towering over the rest of London, much like a Ferris Wheel, but instead of carts, there were large glass domes for a three-hundred and sixty-degree view of the city. A narration of the history and building of the attraction played over a speaker and in the center of the capsule was a long bench.

The city looked like pieces of Legos, with tiny Lego people and tiny Lego cars and boats that sailed down the River just below the ride. The only architecture taller was Big Ben, not far off in the distance. With the clouds low and dark, the scene reminded Frank of a snow globe, minus the snow, and the sunset behind the clouds was much more stunning in reality.

Lost in the landscape, Frank didn’t hear Gerard walk up beside him, leaning up against the glass. Not that Frank ever heard Gerard coming up behind him; he was so light on his feet.

“It’s cool, isn’t it? Being so high up.”

Frank just nodded, eyes tracing the path of a couple strolling along on the pavement below.

“I could live here.” Gerard said to himself.

“Me too.” 

Frank hadn’t considered living anywhere but Jersey. Maybe it was time to look at other options; after all, college was just around the corner. He always assumed he’d attend community college but since seeing life outside his little bubble…maybe he wanted more.

Gerard glanced at his brother and Ray before taking a sideways step toward the other boy and slowly threading his fingers through Frank’s.

Hardly ever being within a foot of Gerard in public, Frank’s adrenaline shot up like Spiderman senses. It wasn’t that Frank cared if Mikey and Ray knew about him and Gerard, but he himself was unaware of exactly what it was between them. Not that it mattered, but Frank wondered what they were: friends? Friends with benefits? More than friends? Until further notice, Frank decided to stick to the ‘friends’ label. Friends that hold hands…and make out.

As the Eye reached its full circle back where it started, the boys climbed off, Gerard having let go of Frank’s hand moments after he initially reached for it. Still, progress.

The group started to head for the nearest tube station, passing lines of tourist shops and food stands and bus tour adverts, enjoying the last bit of sunset over the skyline.

“Don’t get me wrong, this trip has been very informative, but like, we’ve hardly done any spring-break shenanigans.” Frank turned around to face them, walking backward.

“You might not have…” Mikey mumbled.

“Frank, we’re not exactly having a wild Miami spring break.” Gerard reasoned.

Sighing, Frank stumbled over the bumps in the pavement. “I know, I know, but like… we haven’t seen the underground of London; the crazy shit people get up to. We gotta get out at night; find something stupid to do...”

Mikey and Ray laughed, shaking off Frank’s sudden burst of interest in problematic leisure activities, but Gerard wrinkled his eyebrows, unsure how to respond.

“How stupid are we talking?” He questioned.

Frank shrugged. He didn’t have any specific ideas, but this was Frank’s first real vacation. He wanted to do it right. He wanted to make it memorable, and so far, the only memories he’d made took place in museums and hospital rooms... and lying flat in the middle of the street, but that’s not important.

“No idea! Let’s just go fuckin’ wack-“

Not remembering to look behind him where he was walking, Frank slammed into an innocent pedestrian, nearly losing his balance as they clanked heads.

“Ow, fuck, sorry…” Frank turned around, rubbing the back of his head, and froze.

“You always walk backward?” A tall, pin-straight-haired boy said with a smirk.

“Nah, it’s his first time.” Mikey laughed in awe. Ray and Gerard didn’t speak but ogled at the stranger.

“Might need a bit more practice then, mate. I’m Brendon, by the way.” Brendon Urie extended his hand, and Frank stared at it before shaking it. “Frank.”

“Mikey. That’s Ray, and Gerard.” Mikey motioned to each when Brendon turned to him.

He nodded, shoving his hands in the pockets of his velvet jacket. Right as Brendon was about to say something else, another black-haired boy, a bit shorter, appeared from the storefront they stood in front of. He was a bit tanner than Brendon- who’s skin was much paler than it appeared under stage lights- and had lighter eyes. He carried bags of souvenirs with pictures of Big Ben on the side, struggling to keep his wind-blown hair out of his face.

“Take one, would you?” The boy said to Brendon, unaware of the group of Jersey boys.

Brendon took the largest of the bags, nodding to his new acquittances when the black-haired boy finally looked up at them.

“Ryan.” He said quickly with a courteous smile. 

“Hey, we saw your show the other night, it was fuckin incredible.” Mikey said enthusiastically.

Brendon let out a laugh. “Glad you liked it.”

He raised his eyebrows, squinting slightly, then his face lit up in recognition. “Shit, yeah! You were in the front row, looking dapper as fuck! And you two, you disappeared half-way through…”

Frank’s face heated up and he could feel Gerard’s smirk beside him. “Bathroom.” He explained.

“Right…well, anyway, thanks for showing up, we weren’t sure we’d have an audience to be quite honest, we’re kinda shit.”

Ryan elbowed Brendon in the ribs and spoke. “But really, thanks for coming out. How long have you been in London?”

Ray spoke this time. “Nearly a week.”

“We’ve still got a few days left, though. It’s our spring break.” Mikey chimed in. “But we’re running out of shit to do.”

“You’re obviously looking in the wrong place. You can’t spend your spring break looking at tourist attractions.” Brendon gestured to the towering London Eye behind them.

“What’d you mean?”

Ryan and Brendon exchanged a look, communicating silently, then Brendon smiled playfully.   
“You guys got any plans tonight?”


	8. Blitz Body Suits and Skeleton Keys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, me updating twice in a week ?! I just couldn't stop writing...
> 
> I lied; I love this chapter even more- it's a monster, get ready  
> read the footnotes for background on this chapter !  
> -A
> 
> Song Recommendations:  
> "More" by 5 Seconds of Summer  
> "COPYCAT" by Billie Eilish
> 
> _________________________________________________

To be fair, Frank had no idea how this had happened, no idea how Ray and Mikey ended up dancing on top of a bar, how Brendon and Ryan were going at it as a crowd cheered around them, and especially no idea how Gerard ended up in Frank’s bed.

The evening started to pick up quickly after Brendon and Ryan led the boys to what appeared to be a normal pub in an empty alleyway. The lights inside were dim, and only an older man sat in the place, wiping down glasses with a dish towel.

“This is where you brought us? A pub?” Mikey had said, his nose wrinkled.

Brendon gave a wry smile and saluted the man cleaning behind the counter, who nodded back. To make the circumstances even weirder, Ryan strolled confidently to the back wall lined with wooden tables that might fall apart if the wind blew too hard. Between two chairs, however, Ryan made a door appear- which upon further inspection was there to begin with, but hardly distinguishable from the wallpaper- and motioned for the group to follow.

It wasn’t that Frank felt unsafe being led down a steep staircase behind a hidden pub door- he had done crazier in his early high school years- but rather nervous and excited at the same time. He wanted something stupid and his wish was being granted.

The rickety stairs that creaked with every step went on forever, the railing useless because of its old, sharp edges lined with splinters, and Frank traced the progressing lines of graffiti on the walls until he could hear a faint hum from below.

Then the hum became a thumping rhythm.

The thumping took the form of bass.

And the bass began to bleed through the walls into Frank’s ears, music turned up so loud it pounded in his head.

Frank snuck a look behind him at Gerard, who caught his eye and shrugged. He didn’t appear concerned, so why should Frank be?

Finally, the last step came into view. With Brendon and Ryan leading the way, they rounded a corner into the most intense and hypnotic club scene any of them had ever encountered.

In a large dungeon-like tunnel, the ceilings hung low, made of unfinished plaster as the walls were, in the shape of a dome, not unlike the London tube tunnels. But rather than neat and clean tiles, the walls were decorated with more graffiti, snaking up onto the ceiling and around the exposed bits of pipe. The lack of ventilation held the smoke coming from the peoples’ mouths in a thick cloud just beneath the ceiling. It was dim and very stuffy, the only light coming from mounted lanterns, exposing the dark shadows of peoples’ faces. 

And the people, crammed together in the hollowed underground, moved in sync, swaying back and forth to the inaudible instruments of music; only the bass could be felt vibrating between teeth. Their outfits ranged from every color to every shape to every design and fabric, and some wearing no outfits at all. Frank had never seen such a diverse crowd. A huddled group of girls caught his attention, displaying oil-spill body suits that clung to their figures, and on their legs hung fishnet tights and shiny stilettoes. The caked makeup on their faces was consistent with everyone else’s, including the males, females, and in between. The winged eyeliner flew from the corners of bright, glazed-over eyes, and lips were painted in every color lipstick imaginable.

Just visible above the heads of the partygoers was a chain-link fence against the far wall which played as a hanging rack for shelves of foreign dark liquids, presumably the most highly thought of alcohols.  
The naïve boys stood in the narrow doorway, mouths dropped to the stained floor.

“Welcome to Blitz!” Brendon howled.

He then grabbed Ryan’s hand and dove into the crowd, immediately adapting to the rhythm.

Gerard watched until they were out of sight, his brow furrowed, confused. 

“Feel familiar?” Ray teased Mikey.

Mikey shook his head quickly. “Fuck no, this is so much cooler than the club we went to last night.”

The four of them traveled closer to the bar on the other side of the room, the attitude of the crowd immensely different from the concert pit. Elbows didn’t have to be thrown; the people parted to let anyone through, cheering them on as they plunged deeper into the underground.

“Drinks?” Mikey asked Frank, waving a smoke puff out of the other boy’s face.

They leaned against the bar, pointing and discussing the unfamiliar alcohol choices when the bartender lined up four glasses and filled them with an icy blue liquid for each of them.

“Blitz specialty.” He said with a wink.

Together, Mikey, Ray, Frank, and Gerard counted to three and downed the shot, slamming the glasses on the counter. Gerard won, of course.

As Ray ordered another round for him and Mikey, Frank and Gerard took in the scene around them. 

Frank followed the movements of two fine looking men to his right, one’s chest pressed tightly against the back of the other, the one in the front turning his head around to lean into the crook of the other’s neck. The one behind ran his hands up and down his partner’s bare torso, then stopping to hold on to the waistband of the front’s pants.

To Frank’s left, Gerard followed Frank’s line of sight and landed on the two men.

Frank felt a smile creep onto his face watching the pair’s performance, his cheeks getting warm. Without warning, he was spun around to meet Gerard’s eyes dangerously close to his.

“Dance with me.” Gerard said, taking Frank by the arm and leading him further into the crowd.

In a space somewhere in the middle of the pit, they were pushed together by dancers on every side. Once they felt the tempo of the music, they faced each other and swayed with the people around them, Gerard looking down slightly to watch Frank move in front of him.

The clouds of pot and cigarette smoke hazed Frank’s brain, his thoughts shutting up for once to let him be swept away by the pulse of irresistible energy. He didn’t care how he danced, how he looked, if anyone was watching him; he was mesmerized by the Underground and gladly melted into it. 

Then there was the matter of the boy before him. Instead of thinking, Frank simply danced, and Gerard responded with a smirk and gladly moved with him until Frank lost count of the minutes gone by.

At some point, Frank lifted Gerard’s arms to wrap around his back, pulling him even closer. It took a minute, all the while Frank still lost in the blur, but Gerard cautiously held on to the smaller boy, their stomachs pressed together, and gradually allowed his rigid muscles to relax. His fingertips slid down Frank’s spine, feeling the warmth beneath his shirt.

Frank shivered with the thrill of Gerard’s hands traveling lower and lower down his back, resurfacing from the pull of the music to feel every second of his touch. The nerves in Frank’s spine were alive with the buzz of alcohol while he kept dancing, not being able to keep his hips from rolling against the boy in front of him. Hands hovered over Frank’s ass, and a small volcano heated in his lower belly. The hands traveled back up, over Frank’s shoulder blades, and weaved through Frank’s messy hair. The arms attached to the erotic hands then took hold of Frank, gently grasping his bad shoulder, and whirled him around.

Gerard now stood behind him, his wild hands slipping under the hem of Frank’s shirt to thumb his V line, making molten lava spill behind Frank’s navel. He thought he might go mad when Gerard pressed his groin against him, rolling his hips in sync with Frank, who could feel himself getting hard.

They grinded as one body to the music’s rhythm, but because Frank didn’t want to get too excited, he turned to face Gerard, their lips inches apart, until Gerard closed it in one swift motion. Frank clung to him as he bit the other boy’s lip, recognizing the sweet aftertaste of the icy shot on Gerard’s tongue.

Frank sucked on Gerard’s lips, only parting when someone bumped into them.

“Frankie!” Brendon bellowed, Ryan hanging off his arm and pressing kisses into his neck. “Having fun?”

Frank glanced at Gerard and nodded. Though they stopped dancing, Gerard held on to Frank’s hands.

“You should probably check on your friends.” Ryan said, standing up straight to face them. “The curly-headed one’s still dancing on the bar.”

Sure enough, a cheer rose up from the crowd surrounding the bar, chanting as Mikey and Ray stood waveringly on the countertop, stretching their arms as high as they could to pour drinks into each other’s mouths.

Gerard rolled his eyes but couldn’t help but laugh. “My brother’s a fucking idiot. They’re gonna fall.”

“At least the crowd’ll catch them.” Brendon commented.

Gerard’s confused expression was back, like he was trying to find something in Brendon’s face. But it was gone as quickly as it came.

“How did you find out about this place?” Asked Gerard, still not letting go of Frank.

“Trade secret. Some of our filthy fucking rich and famous friends showed us.”

“A few pubs around here have entrances, but you gotta be the ‘weird and wonderous’ to get in, whatever that means.” Ryan added.

“And we fit the bill, huh?” Frank teased.

“We sure do.” Brendon finished, picking Ryan up by his ass so his legs wrapped around Brendon like a fucking monkey. “Come on. There’s a room in the back you’ve got to see.”

In a train formation, Brendon, Ryan, Gerard, and Frank snaked through the crowd, again with ease, and filed through a tight doorway into an office-sized room, dimly lit but bright compared to the scene on the other side of the door. The insulated walls blocked most of the music’s sounds. From ceiling to floor hung curtains over the walls, as there couldn’t possibly be windows below ground. To match the curtains was a velvet red couch and a few chairs, on which Brendon and Ryan made themselves at home in.

“Kind of an awkward place to have a lounge.” Frank commented, taking one of the chairs, Gerard sitting on the arm.

Ryan shrugged. “Yeah, guess whoever built this place wanted the PDA to stay private.”

Frank snorted, seeing that there was no censoring going on outside, while Ryan laid across Brendon’s lap, having his hair stroked by the other boy.

The way the two musicians behaved shouldn’t have shocked Frank as much as it did, considering their suggestive acts on stage, but up close and personal, it was… well, shocking. Frank wondered if he would ever be like that with anyone and he truly could not picture it.

‘Gerard, maybe,’ a drunken voice in his head thought, but Frank shook it off before he could over-think again.

He looked up at the boy sitting next to him, the shadows of face eyes vibrant as ever, even the red velvet reflected in his eyes.

But Gerard didn’t acknowledge Frank, instead back to observing Brendon intently. The way the light hit him was weirdly familiar. He watched as Brendon pet the boy on his lap, drawing circles with his fingers on Ryan’s neck. The way Brendon looked at him…it was almost possessive. But also like he was his entire world. Gerard couldn’t find it cute. It was unnerving.

Frank was about to say something when the look on Gerard’s face changed. His confusion turned into realization, and then fear. It looked too much like Frank’s expression twenty-four hours ago.

Leaning close to Frank’s ear, Gerard refused to take his eyes off Brendon.

“We need to leave.” He barely audibly whispered.

Frank wanted to ask why, what was wrong, how he knew something was off, but he trusted Gerard, maybe too much. Because we went right along with him when Gerard said, “Hey, this has been incredible but it’s, uh, getting late and, um, we really should get going…”

Gerard stood, tense under Frank’s hand that held onto his bicep.

Ryan sat up, looking at them with disappointed eyes. “Already?”

Brendon, however, had an expression of sympathy, and something else… something in his half-smile.

“That’s unfortunate… Ryan, they’re leaving us!” He slurred with fake emotion.

“Y-yeah, nothing personal, we just…need to get Mikey and Ray home.” Gerard started toward the door, but before he could reach the doorknob, Brendon leaped swiftly across the room, inhumanly fast, to block the way.

“I think they’ll manage.” Brendon untucked a necklace from under his shirt, a small key dangling off it, the head of it a silver skull.

He took off the chain, locked the door, and put it back on before anyone could blink.

“Sit.” He ordered, sauntering back to his boy.

Gerard inched forward, slowly pushing Frank behind him. Frank would have been offended…well, no, he was actually kind of grateful.

“That’s adorable, Gerard, really. But incredibly unnecessary. I’m not going to kill him or anything.”

Brendon circled around Ryan, reaching around from behind him to slide his hands up Ryan’s arms, the boy melting into him at his touch.

“On second thought, I probably shouldn’t promise anything.” Brendon placed a kiss to Ryan’s neck. Then, he bared his teeth and sunk the two sharpest front ones into his skin.

“Oh my fucking god…” Whispered Frank, Gerard holding on tightly to his arms, still shielding him.

Two trails of blood glided down Ryan’s neck, his eyes closed and leaning into Brendon, who used his thumb to wipe away red from his mouth, but his teeth remained a stained crimson.

“Play along.” Frank whispered, so quietly he could hardly hear his own words, but he knew Gerard could.

Brendon sighed, letting Ryan collapse on the floor, his chest heaving slowly.

“I don’t want to kill you,” He spoke to them. “but I will if I have to. Make this easy for everyone.” He extended an inviting hand.

When neither of them moved, Brendon spoke again, louder and losing his patience. “Gerard? Since you’re so protective.”

“No,” Frank stepped out from behind Gerard, and hiding the fear he felt, edged closer to Brendon. “I-I’ll go first.”

“I don’t fucking care who goes first.” Brendon grabbed Frank’s bad arm and spun him around, making him let out a whimper.

Gerard jerked forward, but kept his ground when Frank shot him a look. 

‘Wait, wait, wait’, Frank sent a mental message.

Brendon pressed his nose into Frank’s hair, inhaling deeply. “You should stay tonight.” He breathed. Frank shook violently, goosebumps covering his whole body, working to keep a scream in his throat.

The boy behind him traced Frank’s neck with his tongue, and Frank could feel the blood on his mouth.

When Brendon finally stopped teasing and buried his teeth in Frank’s neck, Frank expected the scream to escape him, but it didn’t. The sharp pain hurt, but not the worst thing he’d ever felt. What made him gasp was the feeling of his warm blood rapidly leaving the area around the bite,   
Already his head felt light…

‘Okay, Gerard, now would be a really fucking good time to-‘

Gerard moved faster than Frank could keep up with, his eyes closing with light-headedness. He felt himself being ripped out of Brendon’s arms, landing on the floor. Frank tried to stand but nausea kept him grounded. Instead, his blurry vision watched the scene above him.

Gerard used all his strength to push against Brendon’s chest, launching him backward and into the wall like a fucking action movie. The drywall on the ceiling shook with the impact. But Brendon was back on his feet in an instant, unaffected. 

“Come on, now, I thought we were friends!” He flung himself at Gerard, shoving him up against the opposite wall, hands around his neck, growling with his bloody bared teeth, red dripping off his chin. Gerard struggled against the hold, gasping for air.

He lifted his knee to leverage a kick of his foot into Brendon’s side, sending him stumbling backward. In the brief second he had, Gerard snarled, exposing his own sharp teeth, the veins under his eyes vibrant and pulsing, and tackled Brendon to the ground. He then silently snapped Brendon’s neck beneath him.

For the first time, Frank was genuinely terrified of Gerard.

Gerard heaved, coughing and rubbing his neck, and didn’t move from his position of straddling Brendon on the ground. At least five minutes ticked by before he tore his eyes away from the limp body between his legs.

Frank still sat on his knees, holding the edge of his sleeve over the injury on his neck. He inched closer to Gerard, shaking from head to toe.

When their eyes met, the fear Frank had evaporated, replaced with overwhelming sadness as he observed Gerard look at his blood-covered hands with tears spilling over his eyes.

“I..I-I killed him-“ He let out a single sob.

Frank reached out with one hand to touch Gerard’s shoulder, who flinched, but didn’t shy away.

Another half-scream, half-cry escaped his lips. “I killed him.”

“Gee-“

“I killed him…”

“Gerard, we have to go.”

The lump that was Ryan started to stir.

“Now.” Frank helped Gerard to his feet, both of them shaky to off-balance.

Ripping the skeleton key off Brendon, Frank hurried to unlock the door, force Gerard back out into the Underground scene, and close the door behind them. He debated going back for Ryan but decided that the people who killed his partner probably wouldn’t be the best company for him.

One hand still covering the bloody mess on his neck, Frank dragged sulking Gerard through the crowd until they found Mikey and Ray, who could barely stand.

*****

“Stay here.” Frank ordered Mikey and Ray after he sat them down in a booth in the upstairs bar. They just giggled. Stupid happy drunks.

“Watch them, will you?” Frank asked the owner, his ancient hands still cleaning tediously. He nodded, no questions asked. He probably couldn’t even see them clearly.

Taking Gerard’s hand, he followed the bathroom sign to a small cubicle with a cracked sink and odd-smelling toilet. Frank sat Gerard down on the toilet and started soaking toilet paper with water.

“I’m sorry.” The sullen-faced boy mumbled.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Frank stayed focused on cleaning his wounds in the mirror.

Gerard shook his head. 

“You saved my ass down there, Gee.”

He stood up, took the hand towel off the ring rack, and ran it under the faucet. Gently, he dabbed at Frank’s injury, making a face when Frank winced.

“Sorry.”

“Stop apologizing for shit.” Said Frank, irritated.

The two punctures finally stopped bleeding, enough at least to keep the towel on it and not stain it crimson. Gerard washed his hands, then wiped them on his jeans. Frank inhaled sharply as he put the towel back on his neck.

“It hurts?” Gerard asked, eyes full of guilt.

Frank didn’t answer. “It’s okay. I’ve still got those pain meds at home.”

He looked down at his feet. “I’m s-“

“I swear to god if you apologize one more time, Gee..” Frank tilted Gerard’s chin up and cupped his cheek, wiping away a dry tear with his thumb. “This is not your fault.”

He pointed to his other shoulder. “This is, but I forgave you for that a long time ago.”

Gerard rolled his eyes.

“I killed someone.” He said matter-of-factly.

Frank sighed. “Yes. You did. Because he was going to kill me. Could you have lived with that?”

He regretted exposing the whole truth, but Frank knew the answer. No, Gerard could not live with letting Frank die.

“There might have been another way.” Gerard tried to reason.

“So he could kill someone else? Besides, it’s not like we could just knock him unconscious and make a run for it. And who knows how long he’s been feeding off Ryan…”

That seemed to lower Gerard’s blood pressure. He did what he did, and it saved Frank, as well as Ryan.

“Can we go home now?”

Gerard nodded, and they gathered the hammered Mikey and Ray and squeezed into a cab.

There was no fucking way they were taking the tube.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of background on this chapter’s location: in the ’80s, the underground London club scene was super popular, especially specific clubs Billy’s and Blitz’, made popular by David Bowie, and it was known that you had to be ‘weird and wonderous’ to get in. The club in this chapter is like a reincarnation of the Blitz Kids scene since the original club doesn’t exist anymore, so I wanted old train tunnels to be dedicated to a secret underground where the London nightlife lives on.


	9. Cigarettes and Crazy Ideas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :) :) :)
> 
> -A
> 
> Song Recommendations:  
> "Thru These Tears" by LANY  
> "Losing My Mind" by Charlie Puth
> 
> _____________________________________________

Day 6, sometime around four AM.

Frank was in the same position he had been so many times recently: unable to sleep, staring at the ceiling, and covering his ears to block out Ray’s snoring. This sleep pattern couldn’t be good for him, and the emotional turmoil he was cartwheeling through couldn’t be good for his mental state. All he wanted to do was complain, really. His neck fucking hurt, his shoulder fucking killed, and his head fucking throbbed. All he needed was a good cry. And Gerard. Frank needed him, too.

He was busy writhing in self-pity and physical pain when the bedroom door creaked open, a melancholy Gerard poking his head in. He didn’t have to say a word for Frank to climb out of bed, throw on a jacket, and follow him down the eerily silent staircase to the outside.

It was probably the coldest it had been since they arrived in London, the freezing marble stairs at the entrance of the apartment building chilling Frank’s skin as they sat down. Gerard reached into his pocket and withdrew a wrinkled package of cigarettes, slipping one between his teeth and handing the last one to Frank, who gladly took it.

“Thought now was a good time to have that smoke I promised you.” Gerard said, lighting his end and then Frank’s.

‘We’ll have a smoke before the trip is over,’ Gerard’s words echoed in Frank mind. He had completely forgotten about it. It seemed like years ago they were in the eccentric shop at Piccadilly Circus…

They sat on the stairs in peaceful quiet, inhaling and exhaling puffs of white clouds mixed with the visible frost from their breath. Frank scooted closer to Gerard, their arms resting against each other through layers of winter coats.

The next drag he took, Frank blew the smoke against Gerard’s cheek, the wisps dispersing immediately. The corner of his lip turned up in a smile, and he leaned in close to Frank’s face. When Frank felt Gerard about to kiss him, his lips parted, barely sitting on Gerard’s, Gerard let out a gust of nicotine he had been holding into Frank’s mouth.

“Fuck you,” Frank coughed, but laughed lightly. “Now you have to kiss me for real.” 

Gerard’s smile widened just a bit, and he kissed Frank for real this time.

The taste of burnt ash stung Frank’s tongue, but when it came from Gerard’s mouth, it was a very pleasant taste. Frank could probably kiss Gerard forever, his warmth against him, Gerard licking the inside of his mouth, hands holding his waist. The foreign feeling of ecstasy; Frank never wanted it to end. 

“Is this wrong?” Gerard mumbled suddenly against Frank’s lips.

Damn it.

“What, making out with a guy?” Frank replied sarcastically. 

Narrowing his eyes, Gerard let out a long sigh. “No. The fact that we’re making out when Ryan’s probably grieving the person he’ll never make out with again-“

Frank threw his hands up in exasperation and stood, pacing the pavement, putting his cigarette back in his mouth. “My god, Gerard. It’s not like they got the ‘best couple’ high school superlative! Ryan, he didn’t know what he was doing. Brendon owned him… fucking Stockholm Syndrome or something.”

“Well sorry I feel guilty for murdering someone.” Gerard snapped. 

Running his fingers through his hair, Frank turned back to Gerard who was playing with his bracelets. He’s right; Frank’s not thinking about how Gerard must feel right now.

He did snap someone’s neck, after all. Even if that someone was a blood-sucking maniac.

Frank tried to put himself in Gerard’s shoes, imagining what it felt like to stop a person’s life by breaking their neck like a twig. The thought made him sick.

“I’m sorry. Really, I literally cannot imagine and- I’m sorry. That you had to do that.” Frank sat with his legs tucked under his knees in front of Gerard, taking his hand away from the wraps of bracelets.

Gerard shook his head, stuttering, trying to say what he was thinking. “No, I don’t regret it- well I mean- yeah of course I do, but- it was a choice between you and him, Frank, and that’s not a very difficult decision for me to make.”

He tucked a stray piece of hair behind Frank’s ear. “You mean a hell of a lot to me, Frankie.” 

Under his flushing cheeks, Frank internally cringed at the nickname, remembering Brendon had called him that. But Gerard didn’t seem to think of it so he let it go.

Frank wanted to say something cute, something that would make Gerard feel the way he did- all butterflies. But turns out Frank’s pretty new at this. 

“How did you know? That Brendon was… you know.” Frank thought aloud, putting the butt of his cigarette out on the marble steps.

Gerard didn’t answer for a few seconds. “He looks like me.”

Frank didn’t know what the hell that meant.

Gerard read his confusion and continued. “His eyes, mostly. The circles under them. The…. hunger, consistently. I wasn’t sure that’s what it was until he looked at Ryan the way he did.”

Oh. The resemblance was apparent now. They did have the same eyes. Not in shape or even physical appearance at all but in the emotion behind them. Though Brendon was a psychopath, he carried the same burden Gerard did. He just dealt with it in a really fucked up way.

“You are not Brendon.” Frank made very clear. Gerard was gentle and funny and fucking dark as hell and Frank was head over heels for him.

Damn it.

Before Frank said three words he would definitely regret, he gave Gerard a peck on the cheek. 

“I should go shower. I still smell like pot.”

Gerard furrowed his eyebrows. “Okay.” He wanted to say more. But they walked back up to the apartment instead.

When Frank was alone, he turned the shower faucet to the hottest it could go then leaned over the bathroom sink. He pulled at the puffy circles under his eyes. He messed with his greasy hair. He took off his shirt. He was sweating but it was freezing. He really was a mess.

There was a period of time during freshman year of high school where Frank felt disassociated from himself. Like he was watching his life go by instead of experiencing it. What caused it was finding a body washed up on the bank of a man-made river in his Jersey hometown. This wasn’t the first time this had happened, of course, but the first time Frank had been there to witness it.

For about three months, Frank floated through the days, unable to connect with anything or anyone. The image of the unidentified person burned into the backs of his eyelids whenever he closed his eyes. And he feared it was happening again.

Frank talked like he was okay, for Gerard’s sake more than his own, and he was okay...sort of. He believed that Brendon was a monster and died instead of him, but at the same time, he died instead of him. Frank was alive and Brendon was not.

“It’s not your fault, it’s not your fault, it’s not your fault-” He repeated quietly. It wasn’t his fault. And it wasn’t Gerard’s fault.

What was it called? Survivor’s guilt? Maybe that’s what Frank was feeling. Not validly, but he felt it all the same.

“He saved your life. You survived. You’re alive. Gerard’s alive. You are alive-”

The bathroom door slid open.

Gerard stepped in hesitantly and closed it behind him.

“W-what are you doing?” Frank kept his voice steady, back to the wall. He still felt self-conscious about the vibrant bruising down his spine.

Biting his lip, debating what to say, Gerard scrunched his nose. “Uh…” He crossed his arms and attempted to lean nonchalantly against the door. “I...also need a shower.” It sounded more like a question.

“I won’t take long. Gimme like ten minutes-”

“I was thinking more, um,” Gerard interrupted. “I, we, could...save water? And...oh for fuck’s sake-”

Frank didn’t have the chance to move, or breath, or blink, before his face was between Gerard’s hands, lips together.

Surprised, but not disappointed, Frank stood still. This...this was new.

But he composed himself, holding the other boy’s hips, moving close enough to feel his skin through his shirt. Something he didn’t happen to be wearing, he remembered.

“I thought you said this was wrong.” Frank murmured.

Gerard pulled away to look Frank in the eyes. “Please.” He begged.

Please. pleasepleaseplease…

Nodding, Frank quickly contemplated what he should do. What he was supposed to do. What came first? Were they supposed to kiss for a while, then, like, take Gerard’s shirt off or something? Or just go for it? Fuck, Frank was so new at this.

He decided to go for it.

He looked down at the hem of Gerard’s shirt, fingers hovering. After a few seconds, he slowly took the fabric in his hands, dragging it upward to expose his bare stomach above the waistband of his jeans. Then up over his head, getting caught for a second because Frank’s so fucking new at this, and let it fall to the tile floor.

Being eye level with Gerard’s chin, he had to step back to see his bare chest, just as pale as the rest of him, blueish veins almost invisible but not quite. Frank’s midnight imagination did him no justice; he was so much hotter. 

Gerard wasn’t a model, his stomach was soft, as everyone’s was, his chest defined but not incredibly athletic. But because it was him, Frank had never been so attracted to someone. He was beautiful in the most perfect ways, in the most human ways, which was ironic considering.

Frank laid his fingertips on the other boy’s chest, following the curves down each rib to his V-line that disappeared into his pants.

Remembering the shower was still running, Frank picked up his pace a bit.

He gave Gerard a kiss on the lips, then over his jaw and licked the space behind his ear, which made Gerard gasp, a shiver traveling his spine. Frank would have to remember that.

Lips moving down, Frank left a trail of pecks across Gerard’s neck, tongue outlining his collarbone. Light, quick kisses were planted against his skin, over his pecs and to his lower belly, where, on his knees, Frank again used his tongue to trace the hip bones that pointed toward his end goal.

Above Frank’s head, Gerard breathed shallow exhales, steadying himself by gently holding on to Frank’s hair.

With nervous, shaky hands, Frank undid Gerard’s belt buckle, unzipping his jeans. He paused, took a breath, and hooked his thumbs over the waistband of denim and the soft fabric of his boxers to pull them both down in one swift motion, revealing Gerard’s length. Frank could feel himself getting hard as he nosed at the tip, then reached for Gerard’s hands to lead him behind the shower curtain after he stepped out of his own jeans.

The hot water soaked their hair, plastering it to Frank’s forehead and to Gerard’s neck, his long hair slicking back when he brushed it off his face.

Before closing the inch between their lips, Frank whispered, “Tell me if I should stop.”

Gerard nodded, taking Frank’s mouth to his own, licking at the inside.

Below, Frank’s hand found Gerard’s cock, wrapping his hand around it, slowly pulsing back and forth. Then, when Gerard moaned onto Frank’s tongue, hard against Frank’s thigh, Frank moved his hand faster, thumbing the tip, Gerard still exchanging heavy pants into Frank’s mouth. It wasn’t long before Gerard spilled down Frank’s leg, Frank quickly using his free hand to finish himself.

Lips not separating, they sank down to the shower floor, Frank lying on top of Gerard, their legs tangled and heart rates slowing from their come-down.

“Thank you.” Gerard said into Frank’s hair as Frank laid on his chest.

The water was running cold but they were sweating against each other, indistinguishable in the rain of the shower.

“For what?” Frank traced swirls on Gerard’s skin.

“Distracting me.”

Breaking a smile, Frank sat up to look into his eyes. “Anytime.”

****

 

After Frank and Gerard had dried off, they squeezed into Frank’s twin-size bed, one on top of the other because otherwise it wouldn’t have been possible. They laid in quiet, listening to the wind screaming through the slightly broken window, Gerard twisting Frank’s hair around his fingers. 

“I thought of something.” Gerard whispered, careful not to disturb Ray’s deep sleep five feet away. Not that he could hear them anyway.

“Yeah?”

“That’s a public place. And he is- was- a public celebrity. People are gonna find out. “

Shit. Frank hadn’t thought of that. 

Gerard was right. Whether or not it was self-defense, someone was murdered in a club, however exclusive, and it wasn’t just ‘someone,’ it was a world-renown musician. Word was going to spread...and fast.

“We-we shouldn’t worry yet. No ones even found out. And it’s not like those LDS-tripping dancers will be able to identify suspects or anything…”

He was rambling. Frank was spitting out any reason he could think of to stay calm, all of which not working very well.

“What if we just… left.” Gerard suggested, lowering his eyes.

“What, like go back to Jersey?”

That might not be a crazy idea. 

Gerard shrugged. “Yeah. Er, no. No, somewhere else. Take the first train available“

Now that was a crazy idea.

“Would we drag Mikey and Ray along? And, like, what about the money? It wouldn’t be cheap for four of us…and we can’t just leave them here.”

As much as Frank might want to literally run away with Gerard, it was really stupid.

“Yeah. No, your right. ‘S stupid.” Gerard fell quiet.

It may be stupid. But so was following celebrities into a basement, and they had a great time. Until everything happened to go horribly wrong. Yeah, no this was stupid. No way.

“Sorry.” Frank whispered, pressing a kiss to Gerard’s ear. 

“Don’t apologize.” Gerard repeated the words Frank had said too many times.

He took Frank’s hand and laid it against his own so their fingertips matched up. “But- I would run away with you. Just so you know.”

Frank would run away with him anytime he wanted.

Except that was stupid.

Right?

*****

11 AM

Frank held Gerard in his arms until Frank slowly drifted to sleep to the sound of Gerard’s breathing.

He even dreamt of Gerard. It wasn’t the first time, but this time it was much more real...

When he woke up, the weight on his chest was gone, leaving him alone in the bedroom. He must have slept deeply, as he wasn’t awoken by Ray’s snoring, who, speaking of, was not in his bed.

Frank rubbed the sleep from his eyes, adjusting to the sun streaming through the curtains, and checked the time.

It was early, considering how exhausted Frank had been when they got home, and even more so after...showering.

He could probably use a real shower.  
Frank paced aimlessly around the room, cracking his knuckles, brushing his hair with his fingers, applying a new Band-Aid to the bites on his neck, basically avoiding facing Mikey, who would undoubtedly know Frank had fucked.

Frank didn’t know how Mikey knew, but he always did and refused to give up the secret as to how. Not that Frank cared; he wasn’t, like, sex-shy, but it was still kinda weird, Gerard being his brother and all.

In the middle of his internal tornado, Frank was interrupted by a yell coming from the living room.

“FRANK!”

When he got to the scene, Mikey, Ray, and Gerard stood in a semi-circle around the fuzzy television, mouths dropped to the floor, except Gerard, who was biting his lip so hard it might bleed.

The screen displayed a discolored newscast, a woman in a suit talking into a hand-held mic, bright yellow tape visible behind her.

The caption read;

LEAD MUSICIAN FOUND DEAD: EXPOSURE OF THE UNDERGROUND LONDON RAVE SCENE

Frank stumbled over himself getting to the remote, turning up the volume as loud as it would go.

“...not sure the time of death of the young celebrity, but the forensic team has just arrived, and the Chief of Police asks citizens to remain calm while they block off the street. Here is the chief now on their next steps in the investigation…” 

The news reporter listened to her ear mic, the camera cutting to what was obviously the Chief of Police, standing in front of a podium with flashing photographers extending microphones to record his words.

“At seven-fifty-seven this morning, dispatchers received a distress call from-”

Gerard tore the remote from Frank’s hand, turning the program off.

“Oh my god-” “We were there-” “How the hell-” “Are we gonna be called in for questioning?” Mikey and Ray rambled sporadically.

“SHUT UP!” Frank roared, panicking more and more every millisecond. “Just- let me think…”

Grasping Frank’s arm, Gerard stepped in, speaking low. “We need to leave.”

All of the sudden, the stupid thing to do became staying.

Frank nodded curtly. “Yeah.”


	10. Trust and Prescription Pills

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to be honest, I wasn't sure this was going to happen until I finished writing it; the plot is taking a different turn than I originally thought it would, which is a good thing, I think :)
> 
> -A
> 
> Song Recommendations:
> 
> "Bury Our Love" by Jacob Whitesides  
> "Hold On Honey" by Jacob Whitesides (I was really feeling his music as I wrote this chapter)
> 
> ______________________________________________________________

11:03 AM

 

“Woah, woah, slow down. You’re making zero sense. ” Mikey raised his eyebrows, he and Ray thoroughly confused.

Frank sighed, and tried again, motioning between himself and Gerard. “The club. We were there. We don’t want cops coming to fucking arrest us. We’re leaving the country.”

“But- we were all there; why would just you two get arrested?”

“Um…”

Shit.

“We saw him. Brendon. When he… died.” Gerard provided hastily.

Wide-eyed, Mikey looked horrified. “And you didn’t say anything? You just went home?”

“N-no, we didn’t know that’s what was happening. It was dark.”

“Gerard, what the hell-” 

Frank took hold of Mikey’s wrist and dragged him into the kitchen, closing the door behind them. 

“Mikey. How long have you known me?” Frank crossed his arms. 

Startled by such a question, Mikey took a second. “I don’t know, ten years maybe?”

Frank nodded. “Yeah. Like our whole lives. So. You, you have to trust me. You have to stay here with Ray, and Gerard and I have to take the first train out of London.” He spoke slow, trying to transfer his desperation for Mikey to understand.

But Mikey just looked pissed. 

“Do you know?”

Frank could only blink. “Know what?”

“About Gerard, do you know?” Mikey pointed at the door, lips in a tight line.

Why Frank hadn’t realized Mikey of-fucking-course was aware of Gerard’s...condition, Frank couldn’t say. He was really thick sometimes.

“Yes.”

Letting out a long breath, Mikey rubbed his face, massaging his temples. “Ok.”

“Ok? Ok, what?”

“Ok, go. I trust you. I- I won’t ask any questions.” He put on a straight face to cover his internal argument.

Frank was dumbfounded. “Really?”

“Yes, for fucks sake.”

Mikey hesitated, but pulled Frank in an embrace, squeezing him hard. “Frank, I don’t know what you’re doing, but I hope you do. Just- be fucking careful, yeah? Don’t be an idiot.”

Frank promised he’d be careful, but left out the part about not knowing what the hell he was doing. Neither of them did. 

And Frank was seriously starting to doubt their impulsive plan. Not that it was even a plan; they were just going to show up at Kings Cross and see what tickets were available. But it’s not like they were literally on the run from the cops. And they would be blowing all their cash.

What the fuck.

As Mikey turned to go, Frank caught his shoulder. “Is this stupid?”

“Yes.” Mikey said without hesitation. “But, I don’t know the whole story; I trust you. And I trust my brother.”

“I mean, is this overreacting?”

He shrugged, giving Frank a sympathetic look. “I don’t know. Maybe? Or maybe not…” The wheels in Mikey’s head turned quickly as he debated his next words.

“I- I don’t believe you, by the way. Your story. But, I trust you lied for a reason. There’s something you should know, though.” He made sure the door was closed. “This isn’t the first time someone has mysteriously died around Gerard.”

Something in Frank bubbled with anger; he clenched his fists. “He’s not a murderer.” Frank had to make that clear. 

Mikey waved his hands frantically. “No, no no no that’s not what I meant. I trust him. I know him better than anyone- but- I know him. Better than anyone. And I know when he’s lying. Remember when I said he gets into trouble?”

Frank didn’t nod, but Mikey continued. 

“I didn’t mean ‘out partying and stuff’ kind of trouble, but Frank, if this is what I think it is, be careful.” 

“You really think your own brother would hurt me? Or anyone?” 

“I don’t just think he would, Frank, he has. Twice now. Not intentionally, I know it tears him apart.”

“Can you get to your fucking point?” 

“Just- watch out for my brother. He would never forgive himself if he hurt you. Gerard, he cares about you so fucking much. I’ve never seen him like this.”

Gerard cared about Frank. He knew that; Gerard had told him personally. But confirming it again made Frank’s heart flutter.

“And- he’s my only brother. Take care of yourself, but also take care of him. Please.”

So. Here’s what Frank knew. 

Gerard killed someone. 

But it wasn’t the first time (Frank assumed it was under somewhat similar circumstances).

Also, Mikey knew that Frank knew.

But most importantly, Frank knew what he and Gerard needed to do. Leave. 

And what Frank didn’t know?

What the hell he was doing…

*****

Frank didn’t expect the train station to be empty, but he was hoping it would at least be not as crowded as it was.

That morning, after Mikey’s heartfelt advice-which still kind of pissed Frank off- he and Gerard packed their bags as quickly as they could. Ray wasn’t having it at first, desperate to know what changed in just twelve minutes, and only Mikey could calm him down.

At least they would have the apartment to themselves. 

They exchanged slightly melancholy goodbyes as their things were loaded in a taxi, then sat in silence on the cheap leather seats. There was so much Frank wanted to say and ask Gerard about, but he didn’t feel right bringing it up in front of the driver who kept looking back at them suspiciously through the rearview mirror.

Of the many questions clouding Frank’s head, a few were:

“What’s your plan?”

“Should we be worried about getting arrested?”

“What if we run out of money?”

But most importantly:

“Why the fuck is your brother so worried about you hurting me?”

And:

“What did you do?”

For a solid minute, they stood ogling at the high glass ceilings of the train station, suitcases on the ground with the handles up and in their hands. Gerard moved first.

“Er, right. We need to see a schedule.”

Frank followed as he swerved in and out of businessmen and women and families and a few dogs before stepping out of the way of traffic to look at a screen with rolling departure times.

MANCHESTER- 1200  
HOLMES CHAPEL- 1200  
OXFORD- 1300  
LIVERPOOL- 1300

A separate screen contained the across-the-border times.

WALES- 1200  
DUBLIN- 1200  
EDINBURGH- 1300  
PARIS- 1300

Frank was overwhelmed by the lack of preparation; was it even possible to get a train ticket this close to departure? Should they stick to leaving England, or should they stay a bit more local?

Either way, it was driving his head in.

“I’ve never been on Eurostar.” Gerard said to himself. 

Frank vaguely remembered Gerard mentioning, in the midst of their frenzied morning, the train company that ran from London to Paris by underwater tunnel, which did not appeal to Frank at all.

“I think that’s our best option.” He didn’t ask Frank’s opinion before walking up to the ticket booth and speaking to the lady behind the glass. Frank didn’t care to hear the exchange, so he stood back, but it must have been their lucky day because Gerard handed over two fifty-pound notes in exchange for two inked tickets.

He passed one to Frank, pocketing his own. “Only Paris wasn’t fully booked. What time is it?” Checking the mounted clocks on the wall, each for a different time zone, Gerard took his first deep breath all day. They had another hour.

“You hungry?”

*****

The lonely restaurant in the station- which could hardly be called a restaurant- was packed for lunch hour, so after ordering sandwiches to-go, Frank and Gerard found a vacant bench near the security check.

Gerard chewed his lunch while Frank just picked at the edges of his, eyes lowered and focusing.

“Are you okay?” He asked between bites. Frank only nodded.

“No, you’re not.” Gerard persisted, scooting closer so their legs touched.

Frank really wasn’t in the mood to get angry in a crowded train station, so he controlled his tone when he answered. “Were you ever going to tell me you killed someone else?”

Gerard froze, hands dropping his sandwich into his lap, and his face drained to be paler than usual. “How did you- damn it, Mikey.” He mumbled.

Frank glared until Gerard reluctantly continued. “I was going to tell you. But it’s not easy to talk about, so...I guess I just wanted to wait until I knew you wouldn’t…”

“Leave you?” Finished Frank. “We’ve been over this; I’m not going to fucking run away.”

“I know that.” He paused, taking Frank’s hand to stroke the back of his palm. “It was an accident.” He said, so softly Frank barely heard him.

“I used to drink, like, a lot. Well, more than I do now. And I got in a fight and-” His grip tightened. “It was an accident.”

Frank’s anger evaporated. “I’m sorry.” 

Gerard shook his head, waving him off. “It was years ago.” But he didn’t meet Frank’s eyes, so the other boy cupped Gerard’s cheek in his hand.

“I’m not going to run from you, Gee.” Frank made sure he knew that.

Gerard brightened into a rare smile. “Can I kiss you?”

Letting out a small laugh, Frank held onto his hips, messing with the edges of Gerard’s shirt. “If you must “ 

Apparently, Gerard must, because he took Frank’s mouth in his own, not getting a second glance from passers-by.

*****

It was just over two hours from London to Paris, and Frank got progressively more uneasy the closer they got to the ocean. After a while of green pasture and scenic views, the train dipped beneath a curtain of darkness as the lights of the train compartment flickered on.

“This can’t be safe.” Frank worried, bouncing his leg and cracking the nervousness out of his knuckles.

A ghost of a smile tugged at Gerard’s lips. He had never seen Frank overreacting about something so trivial and it was just a tiny bit amusing. “You’re fine, Frankie. They run this train all day every day for years.”

“Yeah, but I tend to have pretty bad luck. Look who I’m sitting next to.” 

Gerard elbowed Frank in the ribs but snorted in amusement.

“I’ve never been to France.” Gerard thought aloud.

Frank gaped, distracted from his ominous doom. “Seriously? You’ve been all the way to Japan but not Paris?”

The other boy shrugged. “Never been interested, the whole ‘city of love’ bullshit.”

The red in Frank’s cheeks bloomed abruptly. City of Love. His stomach flipped upside down, but he wasn’t quite sure why.

While Frank tried to file away unnecessary worries in order to focus on the important ones, such as the ocean closing in on them, Gerard dug through the front pocket of his backpack, withdrawing a familiar ziplock bag.

The last time Frank had seen it, in the airport security line, there were double the amount of pill capsules. Only half remained, minus another as Gerard threw it back and took a swig from a purchased plastic water bottle.

Frank remembered Mikey’s panic when the security guard searched the contents of his brother’s bag. The memory made Frank want to swallow one of his own pain killers.

“What is it? Xannies, or Dope?” He wasn’t proud of it, but Frank had taken his fair share of unprescribed relaxers.

Evidently, this was hilarious, as Gerard threw his head back in laughter. “Yeah, not quite.”

Frank’s eyebrows furrowed.

“It’s, um- well, it’s for, you know…”

“Are you joking? I have absolutely no fucking idea.”

Gerard looked around at the crowded seats and lowered his voice. “It helps. So I don’t have to fee- uh, so I don’t have to hunt as often.”

Oh.

“How?” Asked Frank, intrigued.

“Takes the edge off. Lasts like a good eight hours. ‘M not really sure what’s in it; some natural shit yoga instructor-kind-of-people take for anxiety. Mikey found them.”

“Mikey’s pretty protective of you, just so you know.” Frank knew Mikey worried about him, with ‘knowing Gerard better than anyone’ and all, but Frank was also positive Mikey was more concerned about his brother. Even if he wouldn’t admit it.

“Oh, trust me; I know. All he does is worry about me. Shows he cares, I guess.”

It was warming Frank from the inside out to hear Gerard finally opening up to him. When they first met, he thought he’d never get past those thick layers of protection. But here they were, and if Frank was falling for Gerard before, now he was skydiving.

“I mean, I wouldn’t be here without him. I was pretty reckless. The only thing that used to help was getting drunk off my ass or getting higher than a fucking kite, but not off weed. Like, hard shit. I’ve had one too many close calls. Even for someone who doesn’t fucking age.”

Frank’s mind replaced the stonies at the club with Gerard, taking in little white lines. He felt sick. Then a thought occurred to him. “How old are you?”

“Still Mikey’s older brother. Hasn’t been that long.” He paused, face going grim. “But he’ll look older than me soon.”

That meant Frank would look older, too. He couldn’t picture it. “Nah, you’ve got a while. Mikey looks like a fetus.” Frank encouraged, and Gerard perked up a bit.

He gazed into the smaller boy’s eyes for a while, all romantic like, as if he was reading Frank’s every thought. How scary that would be.

But Gerard obviously couldn’t tell what Frank was thinking. Though it might be better if he could, then one of them would know what it was Frank thought.

Lightly, like one touch would break Frank into pieces, Gerard traced the edges of the bandage covering Frank’s neck, skin swollen slightly underneath.

“How is it?”

“Can’t even feel it.” Frank lied, hoping Gerard wouldn’t get all guilty again. “Why didn’t we just fly back to Jersey a few days early?” 

Frank wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer but Gerard provided one he didn’t mind.

“I’m not ready to go back yet. I need to do a few more stupid things with you.”

And the blushing was back. 

The remainder of the journey consisted of Gerard memorizing every detail of the boy next to him, Frank forgetting they were underwater as he was already swimming deeper and deeper every minute.

*****

“I just remembered I don’t speak French.” Frank stopped as the taxi line moved forward so they were next for a ride.

Before Gerard could provide any words of reassurance, a driver called to him in a rapid, beautiful, and foreign language. Well, foreign to Frank, because it turns out Gerard spoke plenty of French as he replied just as fast, the words mesmerizing coming from his tongue.

“Of course, you do.” Mumbled Frank, getting into the back seat. “That’s pretty fucking hot, Gee.”

He snorted, taking Frank’s hand after climbing in the cab. “Hotels aren’t cheap. I had him take us to the worst one he could think of.” Gerard nodded toward the driver. “Sorry.”

Frank didn’t care. “It’s fine.”

And it was. Though the outside was rusted cobblestone and the balconies looked incredibly unsafe, Frank thought it was stunning, like the whole city he had been ogling at during the car ride. Except the drivers terrified the shit out of him.

The inside lobby was nice, the furniture deep reds and browns with designs similar to the china plates Frank’s Grandma had. They didn’t need to worry about an available room. There were plenty.

And the room they got- small, but as lovely as the rest of the city. And with one bed.

Shit.

“Um, I can call for an air mattress or something if you want the bed.” Gerard offered awkwardly.

Frank did not want an air mattress. “I’m good.” He said, sauntering into Gerard, close enough that their bodies curved into each others.

“We’ve been here half a minute and you’re already coming onto me.” Gerard teased, holding the small of Frank’s back.

“I haven’t ‘come on you’ yet, actually.” He gripped Gerard’s ass, his heartbeat audible.

Snickering, Gerard eyed Frank up and down. “Fuck’s sake.”

This time, Frank didn’t take his own shirt off. It slid off his chest effortlessly, following Gerard’s hands, so poised and gentle, blood already surging below Frank’s belt line.

“Lay down.” He said into Frank’s neck, and Frank obliged, kicking his shoes off and starting to slip off his pants before Gerard pushed his hands away, pinning them above Frank’s head and finishing the job himself before exposing his own pale chest and boxers.

It wasn’t the first time Frank had seen Gerard naked, but it might as well have been as the heat in his belly swirled, delighted.

Gerard put a hand on Frank’s pecs, pushing slightly so Frank ended up on his back, bare against the hotel sheets, gripping the headboard as Gerard straddled his legs.

He looked down at the boy holding his hips, only able to see messy black hair and fluttering eyelashes, and he tensed up. He never felt this before and he did not to mess this up.

Gerard could feel the boy stiffening beneath him. “Relax.” His lips vibrated against Frank’s waist.

Frank’s breaths only became shallower as Gerard lined kisses up his inner thigh, not stopping at the top. He licked Frank’s tip, then took him in, making Frank moan loudly.

Gerard moved him in and out slowly, not yet deeply, nails digging into Frank’s sides.

At one point, Frank gasped and hiked up his hips without thinking.

Then it was cold down there, as Gerard had sprung up and backed against the wall, hand over his mouth. “Shit!” He growled, balancing on the dresser, still covering his face.

Sitting up, Frank was mortified. And absolutely throbbing. “I-I’m, I’m sorry, what did I do?! I-“

Gerard held up a hand and Frank quieted. “You didn’t… do anything.” He panted. “There’s just… a lot of, um, blood- there.” He motioned to Frank’s cock. “I’m sorry, just give me a second.”

“No, now you relax. It’s okay.” Frank quickly finished himself, coming over his chest and using his shirt to wipe it off. Kinda gross, he thought as soon as he threw the shirt back on the ground.

Still pinned to the wall, Gerard’s eyes were squeezed shut, so Frank went to him, unrolling Gerard’s clenched fists. “Hey, look at me.”

Gerard looked at him with those guilty eyes that Frank hated. “I’m sorry.”

“What did we agree about apologizing? Not for things that aren’t your fault.”

When he tried to lower his eyes, Frank held his face inches from his own.

“But that was my fault.”

“No, it was not. Because you didn’t do anything. If you had bitten my dick off, yeah, I would probably say it’s your fault.”

He almost got a chuckle out of Gerard.

“This was never going to be easy. But now I know what not to do. I know to take it slow. And if it just doesn’t work, I’ll suck you off and you jack me off, yeah?”

That did make Gerard laugh. “Yeah, okay.”

“So, stop pouting and let me blow you.”


	11. Bad Dreams and Soap Operas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'll be honest, it took me a while to get over writer's block in this chapter; I had accomplished all my original ideas for this story but I am not done writing it yet so I had to brainstorm. But it's done ! And I think I know where it's going.... :)
> 
> -A
> 
>  
> 
> Song Recommendations:
> 
> "i love you" by Billie Eilish  
> "Vultures" by John Mayer
> 
>  
> 
> ___________________________________

Day 7, the middle of the night.

Frank, in his state of unconsciousness after a long night of exercise, dreamt a vivid series of memory- like events. Except these events had not happened yet; Frank was imagining the wonders this city held for him. 

One. Frank had never been so wet in his life. Soaked through his clothes and cold to the bone, Frank shivered in the pouring rain, no overhead for protection. In the middle of the street, buildings looming around every side yet not another human in sight, a blanket of lonely darkness pressed against him; he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe, he could not breathe, the night swallowed him whole. 

A scream trapped in his throat couldn’t escape in attempt to call out to anything that would listen because this feeling of being abandoned, like he would never be happy again, like he was no more than a bit of dust, sent tears streaming from Frank’s eyes and he could no longer stand up straight; he bent over clutching his stomach, begging for release.

And it came.

Two. From pitch black to ringing sunshine, Frank had to adjust to the sudden change, so abrupt he lost sense of reality for a split second. He was reclined in a chair of black decal, a modest table before him as an overhang shielded him from the sun, whose rays made his vision blurry and overexposed like looking up at the sky on a summer day.

Preoccupied with the joy of wearing dry clothing, Frank was unaware of the cup of coffee under his nose until he inhaled the bitter chocolate aroma and saw a teacup on a saucer filled with flavor under layers of froth, gently crafted to take the shape of a leaf.

The sun’s heat did not touch his skin, but rather encompass him in a hug, gliding into his veins as he took a sip of the steaming beverage. 

It was strange. Frank should be sweating in weather like this.

Looking over the rim of the teacup, another silhouette formed between streamers of sunlight, which bounced off the stranger’s midnight black hair. Combined with the reflected specks of stars in the stranger’s eyes, he might as well have been the physical embodiment of the night sky. 

The stranger did not talk, just watched Frank finish his embroidered coffee. And though his details were faded, Frank could see his admiring smirk.

The table turned to mist, and then the teacup, and finally the beautiful stranger drifted off as one of the non-existent clouds in the clear blue sky.

Three. The temperature remained the same, but the smell shifted from a lively city to that of salt and water joining hands harmoniously in the wind. Sea froth gathered at Frank’s feet, his toes curling into the sand, as a wave licked at his ankles, urging him to immerse himself in the gentle tide. He started toward the horizon line, but the sense of a person beside him reminded Frank that he was not alone. 

No longer a silhouette, the stranger was crystal clear. Every detail, every mark, every perfect imperfection. Better yet, the stranger became familiar, an entity Frank had known his entire life, one he trusted.

One he loved.

The one he loved reached out and wiped a happy tear from Frank’s cheek, then wove together their fingers like silks designed specifically for a threaded stream. Frank leaned in, anticipating a kiss full of sunshine.

And then he woke up.

But he was awoken by the kiss he had been waiting for, so he didn’t mind.

“Mmm.” Frank gurgled contently, refusing to open his eyes just to get an extra second of bliss.

“I have breakfast.” A graveled voice spoke, fresh cigarette smell emitting from him, teasing Frank’s eyes open in curiosity.

Gerard knelt by the bedside, his smile turned up ever so slightly, amused by Frank’s bird nest-like bedhead.

Frank observed a fully dressed Gerard who leaned close to the pillow Frank’s head laid on. “How long have you been up?” The dim room hinted that the sun had yet to rise.

“Few hours, maybe.”

Frank fiddled with the scarf around the other boy’s neck, the cold wind trapped between its stitches. “Where did you go?”

Gerard hesitated. “I- didn’t want to worry about that again-” He mumbled, referring to his outburst last night. “So- I made sure I wouldn’t be hungry for a while.”

“You went hunting so we can fuck better?” Frank joked, making Gerard’s anticipating expression soften. 

“Jesus, Frankie. You wouldn’t know subtle if it punched you in the face.” But he still couldn’t keep from smirking.

Frank wasn’t convinced he should leave the warmth of the covers, so he scooted over and motioned to the empty space he left. 

Gerard rolled his eyes but slipped off his shoes and crawled into bed, bringing the sheets up to his chin. “Your cheeks are all flushed.”

Frank felt his skin and shivered. “It’s cold.”

Lightly, Gerard pressed the back of his hand to Frank’s forehead. “You feel okay?”

He nodded; he felt perfect. Everything was perfect. “I feel so okay.” And he kissed the boy lying next to him.

And they kissed, and kissed, taking in every detail of each other, Frank wrapping his legs between Gerard’s, until eventually the sun decided to make its unwelcome appearance, which reminded Gerard that it was morning.

“Eat.” He said firmly. “You haven’t had anything since yesterday.”

Which was true; upon reaching the hotel room, they had no desire to leave it, and Frank simply forgot about the necessity of dinner.

Frank sat up as Gerard handed him a flaking chocolate croissant wrapped in delicate paper and a cup of coffee. They were hardly warm now, but it was still the best breakfast Frank had ever had.

“Mikey texted. Asked if we got in okay.”

“M’kay.” Frank responded, mouth full. “What’d you say?”

“I just said we’re fine. I- thought it would defeat the purpose of being inconspicuous if they knew where we were.”

Frank could tell Gerard was on edge about something. Probably the same thing Frank was on edge about: the possibility of being caught at any second. It most likely wasn’t even a good idea to leave the hotel room. But it seemed Gerard already knew this. 

“We can still have fun in here.” He offered, not meaning to be suggestive but gave the butterflies in Frank’s stomach flight once more. 

He wasn’t sulking, he wasn’t, it was just that Frank had always wanted to see the Eiffel Tower, but the first and probably last time he will ever be in Paris, he can’t see it. 

He was not complaining. This trip had been the better than he could have ever imagined, minus a few hiccups...and some possible PTSD, but it’d been amazing, really.

“We can’t- we wouldn’t be able to see the Eiffel Tower...right?” Frank confirmed.

Gerard stuttered with hesitation, never wanting to let Frank down, but; “It’s not a good idea, no.”

Nodding, Frank containing his disappointment. “Yeah, yeah. Just wondering.”

Still feeling sympathetic, Gerard curled up between Frank’s legs, reclining on his chest. Remote in hand, he surfed the limited channels on the tiny television across the room on the dresser, settling on a French soap opera with no English subtitles.

“He definitely swings the other way.” Blurted Frank when a couple kissed dramatically in the rain.

“You think?” Gerard asked, turning his head to look up at the other boy.

“Oh, yeah. Look at how he’s looking at her, like he might puke.” Frank sent Gerard into a fit of laughter and continued to make a game of guessing what the characters were saying on the screen.

As the man stared into the woman’s eyes, Frank said in a deep, accented voice, “You are beautiful, but you don’t have a dick.”

“But I love you!” Gerard played along.

“I’m sorry; find me when you grow a pair. Literally.”

“Fine! I like chicks anyway!”

Arms wrapped around each other, the two hollered with laughter until the room resident next door pounded on the shared wall, yelling something explicit in French, which only made them laugh harder.

As he tossed a stray piece of Gerard’s hair off his face, Frank paused, floating on air.

He looked at him, like he was just now realizing what he was seeing. 

Gentle. Passionate. Beautiful….

But deadly. Frank could never forget that.

He tried, but he couldn’t.

Except, he didn’t see a man who had killed.

He saw a man who saved his life. And stole the breath from his lungs. And gave him a lifetime of calm with one kiss. And made Frank love him.

Damn it.

Frank loved Gerard. So fucking much. He knew this because when he tried to picture something he wouldn’t do for Gerard, he couldn’t. 

Frank would swim across the ocean for him. He would die for him. He would kill for him. That was the scariest part. But he couldn’t bring himself to regret falling in love with him.

And those three words flew from his tongue like smoke, lingering in the air, swirling around them, making them dizzy.

“I love you.”

The quiet that followed was not awkward, nor tense, nor uncertain. The quiet was simply there to allow the words to melt into Gerard’s ears, so he could take them in completely.

Moving to sit on his knees, with Frank leaning against the headboard in front of him, Gerard took his face in his hands.

He spoke against Frank’s cheek. “I fucking love you.”

He dragged kisses down Frank’s neck, twisting his fingers in Frank’s hair, catching at the collar of his shirt. 

“And I love fucking you.”

Pushing the covers back, Frank shimmied down onto his back to look up at Gerard, who happened to be straddling his hips, their regions of excitement dangerously close together.

Pinning Frank’s hands above his head, Gerard slipped his tongue under the hem of Frank’s shirt, using teeth to drag it up to his shoulders, exposing his heavy-breathing chest. Releasing Frank’s hands, Gerard dipped to hold Frank’s pajama-covered waist, pressing the tips of his fingers in the soft fabric.

Frank looked down over the shirt gathered at his chin, watching Gerard kiss patterns on his pecs, across his stomach, below his navel...he was already straining in his pants as Gerard’s hair tickled his skin when he lowered his lips to it.

When Gerard sucked at his V-line, Frank had to grip the headboard to keep himself composed. He refused to move anything below the belt, at least until Gerard said he’s okay with it. He let him do all the work while Frank melted into a haze. He could feel bruises forming on his hips.

But Frank didn’t get to find out what came next as the room closed in on him and he blacked out.

*****

Frank ended up on the carpet, resting against the bed frame, with Gerard’s head next to Frank’s while hanging upside down over the edge of the bed.

Frank’s head was spinning, any object out of a meter’s length away was blurry. His head pounded, like the worst headache he’d ever had. Even the dim lighting hurt his eyes. He knew sex was tiring but this was ridiculous.

“Do you want a drink?”

Whiskey sounded appealing, but being a lightweight, he’d just end up hungover in a few hours and the thought of that made his stomach turn. More than it already was.

“Mnm mnm.” Frank declined. “Can you turn the lights off?

Gerard was quick to his feet, drenching the room in a cooling darkness, relieving a bit of the pressure inside Frank’s scull.

But what frustrated Frank more than the splitting pain was how mortified he was. He passed out. While getting it on. And ruined a really fucking good moment. His cheeks bloomed with embarrassment, and a fever.

The heels of his hands pressing into his closed eyes, Frank sighed deeply, able to feel Gerard’s concerned stare, silently asking if there was anything he could do.

Frank wasn’t claustrophobic, but the room was getting smaller and smaller, his chest hurting more with every exhale.

When the ringing in his ears dialed down to a hum, Frank tried to get up off the stained carpet, using the dresser as leverage. He was very nearly standing when he felt the floor sway beneath him and he collapsed on the bed, holding his head with both hands as if that would keep it from spinning.

“Woah, woah okay, just chill for a second…” Gerard steadied Frank by grasping his shoulders.

“Mmn, no- ‘m fine…” Before Frank could attempt to walk again, Gerard used his much-outweighing strength to keep him seated.

Frank didn’t have it in him to argue, as his thoughts were mush, like after lying on the couch with the flu for three days.

Gerard snorted. “You’re not fine; you’re sick.”

“Am not, you just tire me out.”

Smirking, he pushed Frank’s hair off his sweat-soaked forehead. “Frankie…” 

He probably wanted to say more, but Gerard wasn’t one for soppy moments.

“Distract me, please.” Frank breathed.

Obviously taken by surprise, Gerard blinked, eyes wide. “Um, with what?”

“Anything, just talk.” Gestured Frank hastily.

“Uh, okay, I nearly got run over leaving that bakery this morning…” He tried, and Frank smiled in encouragement, grateful to think about anything other than the pain he was nursing.

“I wasn’t paying attention and people drive crazy here and I was in a hurry to get back to you...” 

Gerard realized what he’d just admitted, and if his cheeks could turn bright red, they would have. Instead, he shook off his comment.

“The city looks pretty in the dark, serene-”

“What did you hunt this morning?”

Gerard opened his mouth to speak, but closed it, and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. “Frank, I don’t really want you to know-“

“Oh, come on, it’s not like I care. If anything, I’m grateful ‘cause we can have hot sex-“

“Possum!” Gerard exclaimed, cutting him off.

Frank found it hilarious how confident Gerard was in bed, but out, couldn’t even speak of it without being embarrassed.

Then, how frustrating it was that Gerard couldn’t talk about himself without being distant. Frank got a good bit out of him on the train, but he wanted to know everything. Every detail.

Maybe it was Frank’s subconscious way of becoming closer to Gerard by attempting to understand the darkest parts of him; maybe Frank was a sucker to hear Gerard’s voice.

Or maybe Frank was just a macabre-obsessed freak. But what’s new?

“How could you go to a bakery after that? Isn’t it messy?”

Gerard shrugged. “No. I’m careful, clean. What if I got stopped on the street? It’d be pretty fucking suspicious.”

“Hmn.” Frank agreed. “I have to pee.”

This time, Gerard didn’t stop him from standing, but walked beside him, hands hovering around him in case he fell. Frank made it to the bathroom without incident, even managing to grab his toiletry bag.

Given some privacy, Frank accomplished a few basic morning routine rituals, brushing his teeth, taking his pain killers and such. When he went to change his bandage, he dropped the bottle of anti-bacterial.

“Gee…” He called, too scared to touch the violent bruises spreading from the two indents like a plague. Of course. The bruise on his back nearly heals, so two more decide to come for a visit.

But these were not quite like normal bruises. Blue snake-like veins slithered from the focal points.

“Yeah-? Oh my god.”

Panic stirred inside Frank’s chest. Was it even possible? Could he be…?

He sat on the lip of the tub, on the verge of hyperventilating, while Gerard stared, his hands pressed into the sides of his forehead.

“Is it…” But Frank couldn’t finish his question before air escaped him, lungs tightening, unable to control his breathing. He wheezed shallowly as Gerard knelt at his feet, clasping Frank’s hands frantically.

“Calm down, it’s okay, I don’t think so-“

“W-what do you m-mean, don’t think so?”

Hot tears leaked from Frank’s eyes, face blooming with heat and fear.

“That’s not how it works. Hey, hey, calm down.” Gerard wiped away the moisture on Frank’s cheeks. “It’s not possible. Not like that. It’s much more complicated.”

By looking into Gerard’s eyes, so sure and comforting, Frank was able to catch his breath, in and out, slowly absorbing the peace of mind Gerard sent his way. 

“Y-you’re sure?”

“Yes. I’m sure. I wouldn’t have let him bite you if it were that easy. It’s gotta be infected, though. But that we can deal with, yeah?”

Frank nodded, still holding each other’s arms. “Is that why I feel so sick?”

Gerard’s face fell, ashamed he couldn’t give a decent response. “I don’t know. I hardly know anything about this shit. But I would guess so.”

“Okay…okay.” Frank assured himself.

“You’re okay. We’re okay.”

And because Frank hung onto every word Gerard said, he felt okay.

Whatever came, they would deal with it together.


	12. Stripping and Pharmacies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> M'kay, this is the one we've been waiting for ;) 
> 
> -A
> 
> Song Recommendations:
> 
> "Deserve" by Audrey MiKa  
> "Opalite" by Martin Luke Brown
> 
>  
> 
> ____________________________________

Still Day 7

 

“Is it dark yet?” 

“No. “

Frank waited sixty-four seconds. 

“Now?”

“No, Frank.” Gerard sighed. 

Slumping back into his pillow, Frank counted some more. As soon as the sky was completely black, Gerard said he’d go down to the pharmacy on the corner-no matter how sketchy- to find some medicine. It was safer for Gerard to leave the hotel room at night, as to be less likely he got caught. Not that the police were looking for them yet. But they could. 

So the sooner it was dark, the sooner Frank would feel better. 

And the sooner Frank felt better, the sooner he could finish what he started with Gerard that morning.

“What about now?” 

Gerard peeked behind the window curtain. “Yeah, okay.”

He gathered up his jacket and stuffed some cash in his back pocket. 

As Gerard started for the door, he hesitated before turning the handle, looking back at Frank. 

“For the love of all that is good, Frank, please do not leave this room. “

“What makes you think I’d leave?” 

Gerard raised his eyebrows, and Frank sunk a little lower under the covers. “Fine.”

Not reassured what so ever, Gerard stepped out into the hallway, the door clicking behind him.

Frank hadn’t been alone for days now. He wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself; he was already getting bored. 

TV entertained him for approximately twenty minutes until he lost interest. 

His head was still throbbing, but the floor stopped swaying beneath him, enough that he could pace across the tiny room, brainstorming what to do. 

Colorful pages sticking out of Gerard’s backpack caught his eye, and Frank quickly jumped at the distraction. 

But X-Men comics cold only busy him for so long

He burned holes through the carpet with how much pacing he was doing, to the point that the mounted evacuation plan became fascinating. 

Tracing the black and red lines, Frank noticed a blue droplet which, according to the legend, was the hotel indoor pool. 

‘Bad idea.’ Frank’s brain warned. 

“Good idea.” Frank fought back.

And he was out the door before his brain could come up with a rebuttal. 

*****

Even if it was light outside, Gerard still wouldn’t be able to find the pharmacy. He weaved in and out of every alley and street corner until finally he spotted the red LED light that read “pharmacie,” and a 24-hour sign on the door. 

A bell chimed as Gerard entered the shop, so small that it seemed irrational to have it stuck between two towering apartment buildings. 

“Bonsoir.” An older woman behind the counter greeted. 

Gerard nodded back and quickly headed to an isle of bright colored bottles for all kinds of illnesses. 

Medicines for sore throat, nausea, congestion, and more lined the shelves, but none seemed to fit Frank’s symptoms.

What were his is symptoms?

Headache? Fainting? Paranoia? Severe neck pain due to a psychopathic attack?

Gerard wasn’t sure there was a remedy for that.

He decided the most important thing was the pain Frank was in. And the fainting, that was pretty bad too.

After doing his best at reading the French back panels of a few drug bottles, Gerard settled for Tylenol, and Advil as a backup. 

Then, he made his way to the medical supplies aisle and picked out a numbing paste and a more durable box of bandages.

And, just for a laugh, some Spongebob Squarepants Band-Aids.

Gerard’s French finance skills were far below what they should be, so at the register, he plopped down a few paper currencies and hoped for the best.

From the look on the pharmacist’s face, he handed over much more than necessary, and she gave half of it back before Gerard was on his way, plastic bag in hand.

Luckily, Gerard remembered his way to the hotel, but he had to endure the sharp midnight wind piercing through his jacket. He had never been so grateful to enter the overheated lobby.

“I wasn’t sure what to get so I just-” Gerard started as he walked through the door to their room. But when he looked up from the bag, of-fucking-course Frank was nowhere to be found.

“For fucks sake.” He groaned, placing down the bag next to Frank’s phone and did a one-eighty back into the hallway.

Gerard peeked into the small corridors of vending machines on each floor an even a few unlocked utility closets. No Frank.

With no other ideas, Gerard decided to check the gym, though that was bound to be trivial.  
He was poking his head through the sliding gym door when he heard a splash coming from down the hall.

“Should’ve guessed.” Gerard mumbled to himself, entering the tiled room with a decently sized swimming pool and a hot tub against the far wall.

And there was Frank, in his fucking boxers, shirt and jacket in a pile on the pool’s edge, emerging from underwater and pushing his soaked hair out of his eyes. 

“You are an idiot.” Stated Gerard, arms crossed.

When Frank noticed him, he smiled. “I’m resourceful.” He lazily sloshed the water at him with both hands. “Get in.”

Gerard snorted. “Yeah, no. Frank, you’re sick, a cold pool is not going to help.”

“It’s not cold! Feel.” Another splash, but it reached Gerard’s shoes, making him jump.

“I don’t think-“ 

“Strip, strip, strip!” Frank chanted. 

“Jesus…” Gerard rolled his eyes but gave in and took off his jacket.

Frank watched with a smirk as the other boy removed his shirt and scarf, tossing them aside.

“Did I ever tell you how fucking hot you are?” Teased Frank, and Gerard responded by kicking water into his face then descending the pool ladder, making his way over to him.

Using the weightlessness of the water, Frank playfully hopped up to hang onto Gerard’s bare chest like a fucking koala. 

“Frankie, you’re like a child.”

Kissing Gerard’s cheek, Frank clung to him, the two floating above the pool’s floor. “You think I’m adorable.”

“Well, yeah.” Gerard admitted, Frank unwinding his legs from Gerard’s waist but not separating from his chest.

Arms holding each other, they waded in the water, the current carrying them ever so slightly.

Gerard moved Frank’s hair to reveal his neck and its blue bruised vines. “How is it?” He asked, fingers hovering over it, scared to touch it, like he would inflict him with pain.

Frank pressed Gerard’s hand to the two indents on his skin, showing him it didn’t hurt- even if it secretly did.

“It’s okay. Ugly as hell, but okay.”

Gerard shook his head, eyebrows wrinkling. “‘S not ugly.”

Set on changing the subject, Frank turned Gerard’s head to look into his eyes. “Be here with me.”

He snapped out of it, and Gerard kissed the boy he was holding, sinking beneath the water but not breaking their kiss. He could hear Frank’s muffled laugh in the air bubbles that rose to the surface, both keeping their eyes closed to just feel each other, not needed to see. The water around them filled with bliss.

Frank emerged first, and Gerard followed. “I wish we could stay here forever.” Frank sighed.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Gerard thought aloud. 

The obnoxiously realistic part of his brain reminded him that nothing lasts forever, but the romantic side of his brain, the part controlled by his heart, didn’t care. For the first time in his life, Gerard was letting his heart lead his actions.

And his heart wanted him right here. Right now. With the person that made him feel human again. “God, I love you.”

Frank beamed, draping his arms over Gerard’s shoulders, slow dancing in the water. “Kiss me.”

Gerard obliged, pushing his sinful tainted soul into Frank’s mouth, and Frank gladly took it in. 

Frank remembered the dream he’d had the night before, the stranger, their touch, how everything disappeared around them. Frank knew the stranger had been Gerard, but this moment confirmed it. Gerard was in his thoughts when he was awake and who he dreamed about at night.

“Gee- “Frank mumbled against Gerard’s lips, but Gerard couldn’t distinguish the sound from the other consistent moans coming from the two of them.

“Gee.” He tried again.

“Mhm?”

“Upstairs.”

To Frank’s surprise, Gerard nodded, taking Frank’s hand to lead them out into the warm lobby air, stumbling to redress as to not drip a trail back up to their room.

It was one of those cheesy, hot movie scenes. The two kissed the elevator ride up, down the hall- Gerard walking backward to keep connected to Frank- and while Frank fiddled with the room key, eyes closed as Gerard leaned against the door.

The second they were out of sight, clothes were thrown here and there, Gerard stripping Frank of his soaked boxers, then his own.

Frank wanted to pause and take in the sight of Gerard, but he wanted to keep going even.

And this time, he would make sure there was no passing out.

He didn’t have a chance to blink before he was sprawled on the bed, Gerard on his knees over him. He kissed over Frank’s neck, stomach, V-line, but when he made his way down from there, Frank briefly filled with fear, but Gerard seemed calm.

“Can I try something?”

Frank nodded immediately.

“Turn over.”

Another wave of uncertainty, but in Gerard’s chest now. Frank, however, was eager and unafraid. So he continued.

To say he felt exposed was an understatement. As Frank rested on his hands and knees, he didn’t know what to expect, and had no idea what to do. This was not just about him.

Gerard used one hand to hold Frank’s hips, the other gently pushing in two fingers. Frank responded instantaneously with a gasp, fists clenched around a pillowcase. Not that Gerard expected otherwise, but Frank was extremely tight, and the heat transferring to Gerard made them dizzy.

The boy was stiff beneath him, so Gerard did his best to take it slow. Every muscle in Frank’s arms and legs tensed with each motion, but as Gerard’s hand pressed reassuringly against Frank’s waist, he loosened up.

Biting his lip, he could feel himself getting harder beneath Gerard, and his sharp exhales became shallower. So much heat. Everywhere. All of a sudden, Frank forgot all about the pain he’d been in just a few hours ago.

“Fuck, Gee…” Frank sighed.

“This good?” Gerard moved just a bit faster.

This time, Frank shook his head. “No. You, I need you- fuck- please.” He wanted more. He needed more

It wasn’t the answer Gerard anticipated, but he could hardly contain himself as he jumped up to sort through his suitcase, making a mess scattering its content on the floor.

“Gerard…” Cried Frank.

“I know, I’m-” He felt the edges of the condom box, tearing it open, then using his teeth to rip the golden packet’s edge, chest burning as he hurried back to the boy he had left on the sheets.

“You’re sure-”

“Yes, God, please, Gee-”

Gerard didn’t hesitate. He held Frank’s hips as leverage, and picked up where he’d left off, as deep as he could.

Frank trembled beneath him, his knees aching, but the hot air and sparks running down his back kept him focused. His lungs worked as hard as he did, the pressure unbearable but the best he’d ever felt.

It was hard to tell who was closer, but from the moans coming from the boy behind him, Frank assumed it was Gerard. That is, until Gerard shifted his position and found it making Frank melt, ecstasy flooding his veins as he came, then Gerard only seconds later.

They collapsed on their backs next to each other, Gerard tying up the condom and tossing it in the bin. Their breathing slowed as Frank messed with Gerard’s hair.

“Frank?”

“Hm?”

“It wasn’t, um, well how was it? It wasn’t bad, right?” Gerard stuttered.

Frank sat up and squeezed Gerard’s hand. “Gee. It was perfect.”

He bent down to kiss him, then laid beside him once more.

“Frankie?”

“Mhm?”

“We’re gonna need clean bed sheets.”


End file.
